The Returning 3: Fight and Shadow DISCONTINUED
by scribblemyname
Summary: The Cure is failing, Pyro's back at the mansion, Remy's past is catching up to him, and a telepathic war is about to change them all forever. Kyro/Romy OVERHAUL REVISIONS IN PROGRESS
1. Friendship Renewed

SORRY ALL WHO'VE ALREADY READ. My muse whopped me overnight and ordered a bit of a different handling. Originally, this was _only_ backstory for the Kyro/Romy fic I'm working on right now, but it's sort of grown into its own thing on me. Hope you like. And I think I'm just going to keep going into the other piece.

Old A/N: This story is really a prequel to something I'm working on now, called _Light Switch_. I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 1: Friendship Renewed**

* * *

Marie stumbled, gasping, into the cold night air behind the mansion. Her shoulders shook and her eyes burned, but she could not cry. Shock. She was in shock.

"_I felt you should be the first to know," Storm had said kindly._

"_Know what?" Cold dread knotted in Marie's stomach._

"_The Cure…" Storm hesitated. "We've received word that the Cure is not permanent."_

_Marie's world ended right there. _Marie_ ended there! For without the Cure, her skin turned rogue and all that was normal and right in her world crashed and burned on the ground._

Marie struggled to catch her breath, but managed to reach the cold stone bench screened by tall shrubs and small trees. Someplace private, safe. So why didn't she feel safe anymore?

Her bare hands rested in her lap. She studied them. The skin was so normal looking, white and soft from heavy use of lotion and sunscreen. Her arms were bare. Since she took the Cure, she'd left gloves and scarves and sweaters behind, dressed in the least clothing she could get away with for the weather.

Her life had changed so drastically when her mutation appeared; a little less so when it disappeared. Bobby hadn't really taken much advantage of it. Some, but not enough. He was hurting. She understood that. He had just fought and nearly killed his one-time best friend. Many of them mourned John after Pyro had destroyed him.

But after he was over it (or claimed he was), he still didn't have much time for her. Still made time for Kitty. Still…

And now, it would be all over again, just worse.

"_How long do I have?" Marie asked, trying to hold back tears._

_Storm maintained her composure, but her eyes were soft as she replied, "A few months. Maybe less."_

_And Marie nodded, rose, and managed to keep her feet going out of the office. She wouldn't cry. She'd wait until she got outside. She would not cry._

She had _maybe_ a few months, and the odds were good that she wouldn't even lose her virginity in that time. Especially once everyone knew. And they would know soon.

She cried then. Tears and hair mingled in her eyes, blending light and shadow in the darkness.

* * *

Kitty shivered in the darkness, wedged between their two trees. John's tree braced her back, and her feet pressed against her own. The ground was hard beneath her, but she neither noticed nor cared.

John was coming back.

"_I didn't want you to be surprised, so I'll be telling the rest of the team tomorrow," Storm said. She was staring out of the window, her white hair blowing a little in the slight breeze. "You remember that a number of the Brotherhood have been apprehended."_

_Kitty nodded, even though Storm couldn't see her, and wondered where this was going._

"_Pyro was among them."_

_She sucked in her breath._

_Storm turned, eyeing her carefully, waiting for her to exhale. Finally, she sighed. "He'll serve his somewhat lengthy probation here."_

How did Storm know? How did she know what that news would do to her? She felt like a semi had slammed her in the gut. And _now_, after the mess with Rogue and Bobby, after his leaving had changed everything between all of them. At one time, they had all been best friends. All it took was John's leaving to shatter and destroy them all.

She wanted to _hate_ him. She did hate him. But…

Love and hate rode a very fine line.

Her face was wet with silent rivers coursing unchecked and uncheckable from her eyes. She stared up at the distant stars, imagining his face up there, when the sounds of what should have been her suddenly made themselves noticed.

Kitty sat up, listened. Someone was crying. Over there. On the stone bench.

* * *

Almost two years ago, Kitty had sat curled up in a little ball in her favorite tree on many afternoons. She'd read or snack or just find pictures in the clouds. But on this day, she'd been sprawled at the foot of the tree, crying her eyes out, in the middle of the night.

She had phased. She could barely feel the ground or even the tree. Just a shadow in the darkness.

Suddenly, warmth licked up her legs and she drew herself up and melted halfway into the tree.

"Sprite?" St. John Allerdyce stared at her through the ball of flame in his hands. He looked terrible, like he had woken from a bad dream. His dirty blonde hair went every which way and his eyes narrowed at her like he couldn't believe it was her.

Not that she looked any better.

Crying in the mud at the bottom of her tree, wearing only her pajamas, had not been a good idea.

She rubbed her eyes, became solid. "Kitty Pryde."

"Oh." He sat down next to her.

She started crying again.

"What…um…" John rubbed the back of his neck before tentatively wrapping one arm around her and patting her shoulder in some gesture that belonged in a torture chamber, not a comfort session. "Don't cry," he pleaded.

She hiccupped and tried to stop. "I—" and she was off again.

"What's wrong?" The heat drew up to her face.

She turned away.

"Kitten?"

"My parents," she finally choked out.

He nodded. "Right."

And that was the beginning of their trees.

Seemed like it was always tears.

* * *

"Rogue?" a tentative voice called out of the darkness.

Marie straightened, pulled her arms in close, forgetting that wasn't necessary yet. "Who's there?"

She watched as a human form pulled out of the shadows, barely there, just a whisper of color that solidified into ever brighter detail.

"_Kitty?" _

Of all the people on all the nights, it had to be _Kitty Pryde_ that caught her crying. But as the moonlight caught on Kitty's face, she realized that Kitty had been crying too.

Kitty gulped, working her own uncovered fingers together. In nervousness? Fear? "Rogue, I'm…" The words hesitated at first, then stumbled out of her in their hurry to be said. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Marie stared at the girl who had once been her friend. Kitty's shoulders were shaking. Tears continued to fall, and fall, and fall.

"You were always stronger than me," Kitty went on. "I kept telling myself that. Bobby wouldn't leave you. You'd be okay. And I…I screwed it all up. I always screw—"

"I'm not stronger," Marie shouted suddenly. "I'm scared!"

Kitty and Marie stared at each other for a long moment.

Kitty whispered. "I know."

Another moment passed.

Marie took a deep breath and demanded, "Why? You were my best friend. Why did you _do_ that?"

She was surprised at herself, at how much pain one question could contain.

Kitty sat down on the ground ungracefully, her face mournful. "Because he was the closest I could get to John."

Marie's mouth fell open. That she had never expected. Perhaps, she should have. Perhaps it should have occurred to her _where_ Bobby went when he was trying to do the same thing: save a man who had left them and they didn't yet know had fallen so much. Or at least save the memories.

She tightened her fingers into a fist. Memories. She knew a lot about those. More than anyone else. She reached out and touched Kitty's shoulder.

"Would you do it again?"

Kitty closed her swollen eyes. "No." She gasped and shuddered. "Never."

Surprisingly, that was enough for her to forgive Kitty. She doubted anything would be quite enough for her to forgive Bobby.

She let go, her hands falling back to her lap. "The Cure's failing." She brought the words out with a tremendous effort, but they fell flat on the air between them.

Kitty sucked in her breath. Hard.

Marie looked up, managed a tiny smile. "I'm not sure I would have wanted it with Bobby anyway."

Kitty started crying again. Somehow they ended up tangled in a fierce girl-hug, the kind after a breakup or a birth or a funeral. Marie felt odd and tingly by moments and realized they were phasing in and out of this world, this unreal situation. But how she had missed Kitty!

Finally, they pulled away and Marie stared at her…friend? "Why are you out here?"

"John." Kitty stared at her own hands. "He's…" She looked around, at the bushes, the trees, the mansion windows. A huge breath blew out through her mouth. "He's coming back."

That one threw her. Marie caught her breath. "For real?"

Kitty nodded. She flickered out and in again.

"I see why he called you Shadowcat."

Kitty blinked up at Marie. "You do?"

Marie realized then that Kitty had no idea how invisible she made herself, melding in and out of shadow in the night. But no one else did either. They never saw her do this at night.

"Yes," Marie replied simply.

Kitty drew herself up. "Well, I've got news for you," she said sharply, catching Marie by surprise. "I see why you're called Rogue and it's because you're a fighter. You _are_ strong. You never needed anyone else to deal with who you are and you don't now."

Marie's mouth fell open again. She shut it abruptly. Kitty stood before her with a fierce expression and balled fists and for once, Marie knew that she would not be able to brush her off. So she didn't. She tried to understand just how she was supposed to fight the return of a mutation that had always been a curse and never a gift.

"I don't know how."

"Well, find out," Kitty ground out. "Be Rogue. Be the girl that Bobby fell in love with, that Logan fought for, that _was my friend."_

Marie drew up herself at that. "Like I'm not!"

"No," came the quiet reply. "You're not. You're being Marie."

Bare arms. Bare hands. If Marie was the price for that, Rogue could stay away forever. Marie crossed her arms. "So?"

"So humans become mutants by surprise. They don't learn control from nothing." Kitty brushed back her hair, clearing having slipped into her analytical role. "But mutants fight the cure. They have _some_ sort of control."

"Fight the _Cure_?" Marie huffed in exasperation. "That's the last thing I want to do. I want to hold onto it, as long as I can!"

The two girls stared at each other.

"Maybe we should just drop it." Marie scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off.

"Rogue?"

"_Shadowcat_," Marie retorted.

"Forgive me?" Kitty stared at her a small smile on her face.

Marie studied her.

"Yes."

* * *

A/N: I hate it when endings elude me. I hope it works well enough. Please, please, please review!


	2. Balance of Power

I'm taking a page from Tamarai's book. No crazy spelling errors to produce that lovely southern accent. Use your imagination.

I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 2: Balance of Power**

* * *

Pyro scowled at his attorney. He never bothered to ask who paid her or why he had one. He had always assumed it was either Professor X or Magneto trying to get him out.

But now, his attorney had succeeded. Gotten him probation. Complete with collar, Cure, and classes.

And Pyro was pissed.

But the only thing worse than Xavier's School for the Gifted was staying behind bars in this awful cell with awful prison food and no lighter.

Pyro swore at the blonde in her white suit, who somehow managed to make business attire look naughty.

"The Cure. You sold me to be _cured!"_ He glared at her. "Get out of here!"

Emma Frost merely raised an eyebrow and leaned heavily against the wall. She looked like she needed a smoke. He often caught her with the smell of one after she left him in frustration for a little while.

"Get out of here!" he yelled again. "No. I will not take the Cure!"

She checked her watch.

Pyro snarled.

Frost snapped back at him. "Oh for goodness' sake, _Pyro_, there are worse things than taking a temporary mutation suppressant to get out of this joint." She refrained from bluer speech around the prison guards. No good letting them know she wasn't your average attorney (or an attorney at all).

That got silence, a strange look, and his complete attention. He drew in a long breath. "Temporary?"

"A few months." She shrugged. "Six to eight at the level they'll hit you with. Enough to keep you behaved until you're used to probation." She aimed an icy glare at him. "You _will_ behave."

"Yes," he replied automatically. "Perfect, civilized behavior. What the lady wants, the lady gets." An evil smirk curled up his lips.

* * *

The team had gathered in the big conference room. Everyone settled into their chairs, trying to ignore the empty spaces in the senior staff. Storm glanced over her remaining people and the junior staff that had joined them.

Bobby seemed a little agitated at Marie's inclusion. Storm had offered her a position, and Marie had accepted. Storm winced. She supposed everyone would know why in a minute.

"Let's start at the top," she said firmly, drawing everyone's attention. "Classes."

Logan growled softly. "I am not teaching history."

"That's fine." Storm smiled. "I have offered the position to Rogue, seeing as you objected rather strongly earlier."

Logan sent a surprised glance at his favorite student. Marie was silent, running one finger along the edge of the table and staring solemnly at it.

They ran down classes and adjusted schedules. Finally, Storm came to her first bombshell. It exploded.

"You can't bring him here!" Bobby shouted. "He'd probably try to burn us all down. He's a traitor!"

Storm tapped her fingers on her arm. "You should probably stop trying to tell me what I can and cannot do, Iceman."

Logan's claws slid out of one hand with an ominous sound, metal sliding against bone.

Storm glanced at Logan in tacit acknowledgment and gratitude. She was getting really tired of people questioning her in ways they had never questioned the Professor.

"The case is closed," she stated firmly into the grim faces of her team. "Pyro will serve his probation here."

Bobby glanced guiltily at Kitty. She did not look at him. Like Marie, she was staring at something on the edge of the table.

Hank Mccoy though smiled. "Perhaps this will be good for everyone."

"Yes," Storm agreed and promptly moved on. "He will have his probation officer with him, Emma Frost."

Kitty snapped her head up at that. "Emma _Frost?"_

"Yes." Storm agreed again. "Any objections can be brought up later in private."

"Wait a second here." This time it was Logan.

Storm groaned inwardly. Couldn't anything be simple?

"If the Kitty Cat"—Kitty bristled at that—"knows something that could endanger the team, shouldn't we all know?"

With a sigh, Storm waved at Kitty to continue. She couldn't refute his logic, much as she wanted to get through and done with this meeting.

Kitty looked extremely uncomfortable. "She tried to recruit me into this awful group of mutants that controlled the world or something."

"His _probation_ officer?" Bobby looked livid.

Storm raised a hand. "I will personally go over it with Kitty and verify what we need to know. On to the next topic," she said forcefully.

Bobby leaned back, looking anything but happy.

"I'm in negotiations for a new teacher who will be useful to the team as well. His name is Remy Lebeau. The earliest we'll see him is at the start of the term."

Nods of acknowledgment. Thankfully, no one knew who he was, or she'd be locking horns all morning.

Finally, with a deep sigh, she came to the part she knew Marie had been dreading.

"The Cure."

* * *

No one could look at her afterwards. That was the hard part. Being a freak among freaks.

Rogue brushed her white hair back from her face and tried to ignore the ones ignoring her as she moved through the hallway. Her arm tingled. Then a solid hand grasped her elbow. Shadowcat.

"Is it just me, or is this really, really weird?" asked the southern girl.

Shadowcat grimaced. "Weird. Definitely weird."

"Hey, wait up!"

They paused and waited for Bobby to catch up. He came to a stop in front of them and swung his head back and forth between the two, as if wondering what strange dynamic had changed that he faced them together.

"Yes?" Rogue asked impatiently.

"Are you okay?" Real concern flashed in his eyes.

She shrugged. "I'll live."

"Yeah." He took them in again. Both standing there. In front of him. Shadowcat waiting patiently for him to get done.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Was there something else?"

"What? No." He shook his head, backing up. "Nothing."

She nodded. Why had she expected more? He wasn't about to realize that his time with her touchability was limited. That he should take it now.

She wondered which of them would end this.

"Well, then, Shadowcat." She turned to her friend. "I believe we had lunch plans."

* * *

A/N: Not quite what I was hoping for, but a good transition to where we're going. Sorry for those I told would have to wait longer. My muse had other ideas. Grin.

Please, please, please review!


	3. The Queen's Game

I'm taking a page from Tamarai's book. No crazy spelling errors to produce that lovely southern accent. Use your imagination. I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

Thank you, everyone, for your kind reviews and favorites and archives. I'm floored by the response to this story. I'll try to live up to your expectations with it.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 3: The Queen's Game**

* * *

Shadowcat crouched within a bed in the medical bay. Every so often, she would poke her face out slightly to see Hank McCoy moving his furry, blue form around the area. She sighed internally. Why Rogue didn't just come out and _ask_ for the records was beyond her. But anything for a friend, right?

"_You know, you could just ask him," Shadowcat told her in exasperation._

_Rogue was back in full force, and somehow her bare arms only made her look more dangerous. "I waited _three years_ for the Professor to help me," she snapped. "And now what? He's dead."_

_Shadowcat flinched at the raw statement._

"_I'm tired of waiting on someone else. You said to fight. To _find out how."

So here she was.

Now, if only Hank would stop humming and get out of the medical bay!

* * *

"Merde." Remy LeBeau swore methodically and vehemently in French at the thin letter he held in his gloved hand. In the other hand, a slim cell phone dangled, open, from his fingers.

"Gambit? Are you still there?" The former thief's voice sounded mildly panicked.

He lifted the phone back to his ear. "Stormy. I have to take care of this."

"Take care of what? You promised!"

He clenched his jaw and answered tightly. "The start of the term. No sooner. I didn't promise you more, _Chere_."

Storm sighed, intense exhaustion blowing out with the sound. "Where are you?"

Remy smiled a grim smile beneath his devil eyes. "Can't tell you that, Stormy. Start of the term. I'll see you." He snapped the phone shut before she could respond and fingered the letter from the Guild.

Finally, he dropped a playing card on the pillow next to the nameless woman who'd shared his bed last night (and paid for it) and left silently as a thief.

* * *

Pyro arrived around second period. He squinted at the clock in the entryway as his "probation officer" exchanged meaningless pleasantries with a woman he didn't recognize. If anything convinced him that his lawyer was hired by Magneto, it was the fact that she morphed so easily into another role and the X-Men didn't recognize _her_.

He looked up at a small gasp from the hallway—and froze.

His Kitten had grown up. She was stunning. Dark, loose curls tumbled over her shoulders, framing skin like porcelain. Somehow, her slender petiteness had matured and become more feminine and _curved_ beneath her small blue shirt and snug jeans. She clutched some file folders to her chest and stared at him with wide brown eyes.

He caught himself back. She was an X-Man, see-the-good-in-everyone Katherine Pryde, a clawless kitten. He hardened his face and sneered. "Sprite."

Her own face transformed into something significantly fiercer. She stepped forward. He almost stepped back, but managed to hold still and smirk at her. She stood on tiptoes and slapped him hard on his right cheek. He was startled and did step back, but she swung back again for the other side. He grabbed for her wrist and it fell through him. She slapped him again.

She bit out in tightly controlled fury, "The name is _Shadowcat."_

Then, she phased right through him and through the wall.

He stared, slack-jawed, after her.

* * *

She'd slipped into his life unbidden, this tiny slip of a girl, eventually claiming his heart. He was never a good boyfriend or anything, and no one knew about their quasi-friendship, except for Bobby and Rogue.

It had started at the trees and always ended up there again.

She curled up in the juncture of three branches in her tree, a nook designed for someone so small. He usually sprawled on his back on the other tree's largest branch. They chatted, fought, played pranks. Often. He _hated_ it when she phased him.

"Why do you call yourself Sprite?" he demanded one day, interrupting her favorite novel. "It's a baby's name."

"Is not!" she protested hotly.

"Is too."

She dropped the book unceremoniously from the tree and lunged across the gap.

He swore and made to move, but was too late. She landed _in_ him and scared a few choice expletives _out_ of him.

Kitty giggled, then surprised him by staying in his arms, warm and solid and real.

John breathed softly on her neck then slipped his arms around her tightly and pulled her up until they were eye to eye and mouth to mouth, mere centimeters apart. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"Shadowcat," he whispered.

Then he kissed her, tasting the sweetness of the apple she ate for lunch, the slight cherry tang of her lip gloss, and the soft, warmth that was all her own. She pulled away a minute later, gasping for air. She scrambled back on the branch.

He merely smirked and leaned back on one arm, flicking his lighter with the other hand. "Now, _that's_ a good codename."

* * *

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Emma Frost snapped at him.

"Get off, Frost," he snapped back.

The unknown woman glanced back and forth between the two. "Perhaps…"

"You're supposed to behave," Emma replied dangerously, crossing her arms. "Or you'll end up back at your own prison cell, _cured_."

"I wouldn't do that," Pyro said softly.

She startled at that and looked at him. Something dangerous, slightly feral gleamed in his eye. She narrowed her icy blue eyes at him.

"You're a rook, Pyro," she said. "But the _queens_ rule the board."

"Perhaps, I should show you your rooms?" The woman finally made herself heard. They looked at her, began to follow.

Pyro glanced uncertainly toward the wall Kitty had disappeared through. Why had she called herself by _his_ name for her? It was a threat, a punishment, _a warning_.

_The queens rule the board._

* * *

A/N: I promise, Romy coming soon. I just have a lot of ground to cover.


	4. Obsession

I'm taking a page from Tamarai's book. No crazy spelling errors to produce that lovely southern accent. Use your imagination. I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

Thank you, everyone, again for your reviews and alerts and favorites. They bring warmth to my heart and keep me going. This chapter is going to be a bit longer, because I'm crazy impatient to get to Remy and he is _not_ allowed to come until a certain point.

So much to do, so little time. Here goes.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 4: Obsession**

* * *

Rogue and Shadowcat spent their joint free hours before school started on Kitty's computer in their room. File folders blossomed, multiplied, and grew, eventually spreading across the desk, both beds, and on every other object in the room that could hold them. Rogue knew she was slacking a little on her plans for the high school freshman history class that she'd be teaching, but _this_ was somehow more important.

Somehow?

This was more important.

Shadowcat apparently agreed because here they were, doing unauthorized research on files they really shouldn't have. Rogue's one compromise was to let Shadowcat talk to Moira a little about it. The Professor's longtime friend came down every other week to relieve Hank and was a brilliant geneticist. She turned her head long enough for the girls to copy down what they needed and do their paper and computer analyses. She also told them that the Professor would be able to join them again soon.

Storm was probably thrilled at that.

"All right." Rogue pulled her hair back into a ponytail, leaving the white hair out to fall around her face. "Anything new?"

Shadowcat grinned. She was in her element. She spun around in the computer chair and described the diagram on the screen with her hands.

"You're looking at the connections between brain and DNA here. Each touch-based mutation seems to operate in a fairly similar fashion." The tiny girl paused, frowned, glanced at her notes. "Make that skin-based. Take a look at this."

She tossed Rogue a notepad, which she accepted.

Rogue's eyes ran down her friend's notes on Logan quickly. She inhaled sharply. "This looks a lot like mine."

"It is," Shadowcat confirmed, clicking away. "Both of your mutations affect life force. Both of them are permanently on." She glanced back with a grin. "Funny thing is: he's never _tried_ to control it."

Rogue frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Practice." Shadowcat waved a nonchalant hand. "You can't. He doesn't have to. I do. And I'm getting better every day. Even Scott could control his gift if he hadn't got brain damage."

Rogue rummaged through some files before snapping one open and confirming it. The file suddenly vanished from her hands and a sheet of paper phased into it.

"What's this?"

"A summary. Now get out of this room, girl, and do some field work." Shadowcat twirled on the computer chair. "I've got a class to plan."

* * *

Logan paused in the middle of his Danger Room session and glanced toward the control room window. He smelled the air.

_Marie_.

What was she doing here?

He ended the session abruptly and went to find out, but her scent was a whisper fading tantalizing in front of him. He could follow her, but for some reason, she was leaving.

Logan paused in the control room and considered. She'd been acting a little strange lately. That was normal enough considering the blow that she'd gotten when the Cure failed for the first time. But at odd moments, he would smell her. She was watching him but not talking.

The Wolverine growled his frustration and returned to the sim to beat out his frustrations on something unreal.

He _wanted_ to talk to her.

But he was fairly certain she just wanted space.

* * *

She watched Logan a lot after Shadowcat's revelation that his mutation, his gift, was as unvarying as her curse. She always caught the first instant he noticed her. His nostrils flared and he turned to look at her—even if it was through walls, plants, people, distance, _glass_.

Rogue slipped out of the control room and into the hallway leading toward the cafeteria. Elevator. Punch in the right number. Going up.

She watched the students at their lunches. She watched Hank and Kurt, both permanently altered, but decided their appearance was akin to her white hair. A side effect. Not necessarily the "gift" itself.

Mutation was a funny thing. It had an almost random quality to it. Each student's attributes outside the normal bore little to no or almost perfect resemblance to another's. She considered Shadowcat's summary on the folded sheet of notebook paper in her back pocket. Mentally, she began to categorize mutations.

She continued to watch.

* * *

She was waiting for him. When Pyro entered the darkened room, he froze, as if sensing her. He flicked on a light.

"Kitty!" He swore. "You scared the mess out of me!"

Shadowcat sat Indian-style on his bed. A dark blue tank top hung loosely on her petite frame. She studied him while swinging a lighter in her left hand.

Pyro's dark eyes fell on the lighter.

Back and forth. Back and forth. In some sort of hypnotic pendulum action, Shadowcat had captured his interest, even as she tried to read him.

His face was like a stone, hard and often blank or sneering. He was different, leaner, harder, more dangerous. But his eyes, those were like a flickering flame, dark and frightening in their feral quality. He was hardly interested in soft sweet words or poetry anymore, she would guess. His eyes were those of a lost soul, lost to the sweetness of battle and war. Lost to shadow.

She suddenly gripped the Zippo lighter tightly in her fist. His gaze met hers. Slowly, she phased it through her hand and it fell onto his bed.

His eyes stayed on hers. He didn't watch it fall.

But she couldn't read them. They were dark, impenetrable. She hated his new eyes because they took him away from her and he wasn't John anymore. He was Pyro.

She was Shadowcat.

"You forgot this," she said.

A flame lit in his eyes. His jaw muscles shifted and she could see clearly that he was angry. He hadn't forgotten and they both knew it. He had _left_ it.

For her.

Was she really this pathetic? She forced herself to her feet and began to phase through him on her way out the door, when he grabbed her forcefully by the shoulder at the right moment to phase with her.

She stared at him, cocked a questioning brow.

"Kitty," he started.

"Shadowcat," she spat back, knowing full well she was testing his anger.

His hand reached up to her face and she fought the swell of emotion that responded to his action. He hushed her. "That was John's lighter," he whispered close to her mouth. Mere centimeters away.

She backed up. Unphasing him and phasing herself.

"Then _John_ better come back and claim it," she retorted and slipped out of the room.

* * *

Didn't Pyro ever sleep? Emma Frost glanced at her clock with a growl. 11:30 p.m. She threw back the covers and put her feet to the floor. She listened but heard only the vaguest of mental whispers down the hall. Of course, Pyro was releasing a steady stream of blue thoughts and she nearly snapped in his mind. But she wouldn't.

No.

The Professor was out of the picture for now. Jean Grey was dead. The Institute was in need of a telepath, but she wasn't advertising that she was one. Only Xavier, Jean, and Scott knew who she was. Not even Moira McTaggert remembered her.

Emma had been a high school freshman here once. For one year. She'd had an awful crush on Scott Summers, but got over quickly when she was recruited into the Hellfire Club. And now…

She was a free agent again, scouting out her options.

Pyro played neatly into her plans. Even if he was a mind that would _not_ shut up.

* * *

It was becoming obsession.

Rogue could not stop watching.

Her days began early and ended late. She went over notes, scribbled on pads, sat quietly as she practiced all the things she was studying.

In the middle of the day, she turned into a sponge and a video recorder, capturing every hint at what drove or controlled a person's mutation. Then she started asking.

"Jubilee." She started small. "Can you turn it on?"

Jubilee giggled and instantly complied, lighting up and juggling to show off.

"Now turn it _off_."

The Asian girl frowned. She reached out and tentatively tried to reabsorb the glowing spheres. They flowed back into her hands.

Rogue nodded. "Thanks."

Other students followed. She studied their mutations, their triggers, their control. Then they turned them off, and she studied that. Bobby and Logan both began to watch her with concern. She ignored them. Her new obsession was bearing fruit, and she wasn't about to stop.

And that was how it began.

* * *

She was waiting for him, her eternal obsession.

_Why?_ Why couldn't she just give him up, let him go?

Cold blue eyes met his. _I will always wait for you._

* * *

A/N: Remy arrives next chapter.


	5. Light Switch

I'm taking a page from Tamarai's book. No crazy spelling errors to produce that lovely southern accent. Use your imagination. I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

I think it's time for a little _male_ bonding in here. After all, we've got three bad boys at the mansion this chapter that can barely figure out how they got roped into decent behavior.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 5: Light Switch**

* * *

"Turn it on."

"Marie…"

"Rogue," his girlfriend snapped back from across the room on his bed.

"Fine! There! You happy?"

Rogue leaned forward and frowned intently as she stared for nearly a full minute. "Now, turn it off."

"Rogue. You can't just go around asking people to—"

"Stop it!" she hissed out, and he did. Rogue's eyes had sparkled into a green flame that looked ready to consume him.

They stared at each other, one in hurt and confusion, the other in anger.

"Just turn it off, Bobby."

The temperature went up in the room a several degrees, and Bobby shook the hoarfrost off of him. He was sitting on his desk and watching Rogue warily.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She seemed amused by the question, the faintest hint of a smile lifting her mouth. "Perfectly."

Somehow that was the least reassuring thing she could have said.

"Oh, Bobby. Stop worrying about me." Rogue rose from the bed and trailed over to him with a slow walk that made him burn. "You're not earning brownie points, you know."

Brownie points? He was having a hard time understanding her, when she stepped up close and drew one bare finger sharply across his jaw and smiled up at him with that strange new look in her eyes.

"Stop," she asked softly.

"Stop what?" He was pretty sure the room got colder.

She raised her eyebrows. "Worrying."

He stared at her. "Can I?"

"You should," she returned firmly.

"Uh…I'm not sure I control it that well." He finally snapped to it and figured out what she was talking about. "It's an emotion, you know? 'Cause I _care_."

Rogue sighed. "All right, Bobby." She smiled slowly, almost to herself. "I'll see you around."

And she slipped out of the room. Elusive. Independent. _Alone_.

* * *

Rogue followed her instincts down to Logan's punching bag. She slipped on the boxing gloves and, after eyeing the target a little, got down to business.

She focused. Breathing in, breathing out. Throwing a punch. Breathing in, breathing out. Throwing a punch and reaching. Her breath made her focus. The punching helped her reach.

Breathe in.

_She could almost feel the chains around her neck._

Breathe out.

_Her tongue felt strange and flat._

Breathe in.

_Her hands were starting to hurt. Shouldn't they be healing?_

Breathe out.

_She could seriously use a beer._

Breathe in, breathe out. Rogue suddenly stopped and held the bag.

"Hey, kid."

"Logan," she replied tersely. Her own accent seemed hard to remember.

He'd finally had it apparently and had decided to talk to her. His eyes were full of worry, more justified than Bobby's. Logan took in the sight of her in her white undershirt (well, it did look like one of his) and jeans. Her hair was loose and she was fairly certain she made a sight.

"What are you doing?"

She breathed in harshly and blew out frustration, this time aching for a cigar and not a beer. "Exercising." She pulled back her gloves and threw another punch.

"You don't box."

She shrugged. "Maybe there's a first for everything. You said I could use the bag when I wanted." She kept breathing, throwing punches, craving unhealthy addictions.

"You know, mine's always on too," he said softly.

Rogue stopped the bag again and turned her head slowly toward him. She frowned. He was serious. He was being real. He _knew_.

She'd lost what she was trying to gain, now that he had lit her fuse. She sent one last kick (all Rogue) flying at the bag, then removed the gloves carefully and put them away.

"It doesn't have to be," she finally told him, after debating internally for or against. "You just don't want to die."

Logan started to say something, then strode forward and caught her face up to look at him. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Her eyebrow came up. Logan had lost the ability to intimidate her after their years of friendship, so she simply explained. "Every mutation has some way of controlling it. But why, for all that's good, would you ever want to turn yours off?"

He stared at her. Something nameless and deep showed in his eyes. But for that, his face was entirely expressionless.

She stared back.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he finally asked. His tone was almost as hard to read as his face.

She nodded anyway. "Logan, I'll be fine." She put one hand on his shoulder to emphasize.

He backed away from her, nodded. "I've got to talk to Storm." He glanced toward the punching bag. "Just don't do _that_ for now."

Rogue giggled. "All right, Logan," she answered, back to her thick southern accent. "For now."

* * *

Storm moved from looking out of the window and slipped into her seat behind the desk. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming," she said with a smile.

"I got sidetracked."

A sudden ring of smoke made Storm cough and wave at the air. "Logan, _must_ you smoke that in here?"

Logan sighed and leaned forward, putting it out in the ash tray. He wished some of these girls would get a clue about _why_ the men smoked. "Fine, Storm. Why'd you want to see me?"

She was still waving the air in front of her nose with distaste. "Two things really." She coughed, then got up and opened the window. "Ahh!" She breathed in relief. "Two _people_ actually."

He looked at her questioningly.

Storm sat back down, apparently contented, and folded her hands together on the desk. "Pyro needs tutoring and I was wondering if you had any thoughts on who ought to do it."

"Tutoring?" He snorted. "You're kidding me, right?"

"His peers are in college, Logan." She gave him a look for the kidding line. "He has a year and a half of high school to finish."

"Fine. Make half-pint do it." He leaned back in the chair. "She's probably the only one who won't kill him the first session."

Storm hesitated. "Yes. Well, it's just…I was hoping you could think of someone else. While I also thought of Kitty…" Her voice trailed off.

"Just say whatever you're going to say, 'Ro."

"They have history. It might be best if she did not tutor him."

Logan groaned. History. Great. "'Ro. She's the only one who's got the patience. You're talking thirteen, fourteen months worth of schooling and a delinquent pyromaniac who didn't like it the first round through."

Storm nodded. "Yes, I am."

"I'm sure not doing it unless you want him skewered and served as an appetizer."

"Definitely not." She grimaced. "Well, I suppose it'll have to be Kitty."

"The other thing," he prodded. He wanted out of here, this office. He wanted a smoke.

Storm smiled prettily and handed him a file folder. "Our newest member. He should be arriving sometime before midnight."

Logan stopped glancing through the file and looked over at the clock. "It's ten in the morning, 'Ro!"

"I know it's a little vague," she admitted. "But that's just his way. I rather think you'll like him."

A growl was her response and he finished flipping through the file before asking testily, "And what in the world makes you think _he'll_ be a good addition to the team?"

"We go way back," was her enigmatic explanation. "I know Remy LeBeau very well."

"A thief?"

She hesitated. "He is not currently working with the Guild."

"Working or not," Logan pressed, "this file here says he's _family_."

"Yes." The word was unequivocal. "I happen to rather like Jean-Luc LeBeau. Well, except his handling of the incident." This last was more to herself.

"Why'd he leave?"

"That's rather personal."

"Not if he's going to be on the team."

"Actually, Logan," Storm said more firmly. "It's strictly personal. What happened between Remy and the Guild had nothing to do with business and nobody could have prevented it." She smiled brightly. "I wanted you to help him get settled if you don't mind."

Logan groaned. Women. He was supposed to be firm and immovable about these things, and all it took is one beautiful smile from the right mouth to make him give. He opened his mouth to surrender, when someone knocked on the door.

Storm rose to answer it, but the visitor simply walked in after a brief pause.

"Remy!" she exclaimed.

A tall, lithe figure with glowing red eyes on a black sclera and somewhat disheveled midlength auburn hair stepped into the room with a charming grin. "Stormy, _ma amie._" Remy leaned over and kissed the back of her hand.

"Always the charmer."

"Hmph." Logan didn't see too much charming about him.

The Cajun practically oozed slipperiness with his athletic figure, shifting eyes, and fidgety hands. His accent was thick too, and Logan wondered how long ago Remy had severed ties with his "family."

Remy slipped a deck of cards out of his duster and began to shuffle it back and forth. He was dressed in more clothes than Rogue wore before she lost her mutation. Long sleeves, long pants, leather gloves, duster jacket nearing the end of a warm summer seemed a little out of place.

"Remy, I'd like you to meet Logan."

Logan grunted and wished for a cigar.

"Logan, this is Remy LeBeau."

Remy nodded and his hands stayed busy with the cards. "Nice to meet you, _mon ami_. But it's Gambit."

"And I'm not your friend."

"That's just how he talks," Storm responded before Remy could. She eyed the mutant reproachfully. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"That was business, Stormy. I told you I had to take care of it," the Cajun answered tightly.

Logan got up. "Reunion's over, 'Ro. Let me get him settled down and get back to work."

"Fine." Storm sighed. "It's wonderful seeing you, Remy."

"Always a pleasure, _ma amie_." His ruby eyes glowed slightly brighter for a moment.

"Come on, Gumbo. Let's find you a room."

Remy raised his eyebrows and looked mildly amused, but he put away his cards and followed Logan. His fingers started rubbing together as if wanting the cards back—or a smoke.

"You smoke?" Logan decided to be up front, now that Storm's disapproving glares couldn't reach him.

"_Oui_. Perhaps I'll give it up." Remy shrugged casually, then sniffed. "Opus X. Nice taste, _mon ami_."

Logan shrugged. He'd almost made it to the Cajun's new room when he ran into Pyro. The depowered mutant stopped and scowled.

"And this is?" Remy asked politely.

"Pyro, this is Gambit. Gambit, Pyro. He's doing time."

"Ah! What are you in for, _Pyro_?" Remy's eyes seemed to gleam with an internal light source.

Logan shook his head. What Storm was doing with a friend that delighted in crime was beyond him.

Pyro eyed the other mutant suspiciously. "You heard of Magneto?"

Remy's eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. "_That_ Pyro?"

Logan would wipe off that arrogant smirk later.

"_Mon ami_, you certainly know how to find trouble." The Cajun swung a too-friendly arm around Pyro's shoulders, much to the shorter man's discomfort. "Magneto's crew? No finesse, _homme_. You need to find a cohort that knows what they're doing and how to do it, _non_?"

"Gambit," Logan stressed the name. "No crime tips."

"What are _you_ in for?" Pyro asked, ignoring Logan for the moment.

Remy grimaced. "Stormy."

"Stormy?" Pyro laughed. "I bet she just _hates_ being called that."

Logan sighed in resignation and leaned against the wall. "That makes two of us, Gumbo. Storm's got me too."

"Gumbo?" Pyro grinned, then flinched under the hardening of Remy's grip.

The crimson eyes narrowed to almost slits. "Gambit."

"Fine. Fine. No need to get your fur in a bunch." Pyro glanced toward Logan. "Any chance you'd be sharing beer?"

"Guess us convicts need to stick together," Logan relented a little. "All right. The three of us. Tonight. Poker. You, Gumbo…"

Remy grinned.

"Bring the drinks."

* * *

Bobby tried only four more times that day to talk to Rogue. To make an impression. She blew him off twice, ran her fingers seductively up his arm once, and huffed at him angrily the other.

He stared at his ceiling that night in anger. What was it she was after, anyway? Was she playing him or something?

She kept sneaking around in the corners of rooms and studying powers, asking people to turn them on and off like a light switch. She kept turning _him_ on and off.

Sometimes he wondered just what she was asking him to stop.

* * *

A/N: Hmm. Not sure I like this chapter. The mood might have mixed a little with All's Fair, seeing as I just finished updating that one. Shout me out if it needs a rewrite.


	6. A Girl You Can Touch

Sorry this chapter took so long to come together. Writing doesn't go quite so well when you're seriously sick.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 6: A Girl You Can Touch**

* * *

_She was waiting for him, her eternal obsession._

_Why? Why couldn't she just give him up, let him go?_

_Cold blue eyes met his. I will always wait for you._

Remy woke abruptly, shoved back the damp covers, and sat up. A new nightmare to add to his old ones. He steadied his breathing. Nothing went wrong this time, he told himself. Sarah was all right.

Nevertheless, he didn't stop himself when he stepped in the shower from turning the handle as cold as it would go.

* * *

Moira McTaggert was one of the few women who took her morning coffee interruptions in stride. This time was hardly different. She was settled into her own favorite corner of Hank McCoy's lab when a pair of girl's tennis shoes appeared at the ceiling. The image was vaguely translucent but growing at an alarming rate into jeans, a tiny white t-shirt with glittering purple star, small hands carrying a fat manilla folder, and then the grinning face and chocolate-colored ponytail of Kitty Pryde.

The teenager dropped to the ground soundlessly, then went solid. The lab vanished behind her body.

"Ms. McTaggert." Kitty smiled at her and stuck a hand through the file cabinet door then pulled it out sans folder.

If Moira hadn't seen her do that so many times, the image would have startled her. Instead, she sipped on her coffee. "Any luck?"

Kitty's eyes turned startled, then wary, then analytical. "Some," she responded slowly.

Moira had begun to notice a more pronounced shift from identity to identity in the girl. She'd be the exuberant, bubbly Kitty, then she'd suddenly change. And Kitty called the change Shadowcat.

Moira sighed then got down to business. "I want to know if you're making any significant progress. I said you could take the files, but I didn't specify how long." She left the words hanging.

Kitty nodded slowly, then settled herself halfway into an examining table, letting her powers float her on top of it. "You want to know if it's worth it."

"And at some point, we'll have to either legitimatize or terminate our professional relationship."

Kitty nodded again, then narrowed her eyes at the geneticist with a laserlike focus. "What do you want to know?"

"How many mutations have you analyzed?" Starting with stats was always easiest.

"Thirty-three have received thorough analyses. Twelve complete but not thorough. We've given a cursory of the rest, mostly comparative."

"And the conclusions?"

Kitty sighed and rubbed her temples lightly. "Lots of them." Then she straightened, perched up on the end of the table like a throne, and went off into the hyperspeak of a teenage girl.

"We've discovered that most mutations have three separate divisions: the psychic, the fluid genetic, and the one-time genetic. One-time genetic is just that—_boring_." At Moira's startled glance, she grinned and explained, "Physical mutations. That's all they are. On activation of the X-gene, the DNA is altered in key places to produce physical changes, sometimes in sync with the rest of our divisions."

Moira nodded, wishing she had thought of Kitty's supercomputer brain power earlier in getting these files inputted and analyzed. "Go on."

"Well, take Logan's mutation." Kitty glanced around then having reassured herself, continued. "The Prof. was so way past wrong. You could take his head off and separate it and the guy would still heal."

Moira glanced sharply at the girl. "What do you mean?"

Kitty grinned. "He has a cell-initiated gift. Every cell nuclei contains a complete genetic imprint of his entire body. Any compromise to the imprint's expression is immediately corrected. Each cell seems to be able to communicate with the rest of the cells. Thus fluid genetic." She blew out a breath. "If he lost his head, the overall cell communication in the rest of his body would overwhelm the cell response in the head, and the body would grow a new head."

Moira stared at her.

"But the head would _not_ grow a new body."

"You're certain of this?"

Kitty looked at her curiously. "Of course, I am."

"And—your gift?" Moira thought of bringing up Rogues, but decided to keep that topic off the table.

Kitty didn't seem to notice. "Surprisingly, mine is brain-initiated. Kind of like telekinesis or something. We've divided the mutations up into those categories: cell-initiated or brain-initiated. They operate pretty differently. Cell-initiated we call low level and it means that something happens as a trigger in the cells before anything happens in the brain. Brain-initiated we call high level and it's just the opposite. Something has to happen in the brain before anything can happen in the cells.

"Most mutations though won't work without the brain function, regardless of the trigger. So, low level and high level only refers to the triggering function." The girl took in a deep breath.

Moira pursed her lips. She saw that Kitty wouldn't continue without prodding, then rose and retrieved a heavy file from a locked cabinet. "These are my own analyses. Mark them up. I will review them to consider making you my official assistant."

Kitty's eyes rounded. Then she hesitated. "Then could we do a little..." She seemed to be reaching for words. "...hands-on?"

"Meaning?"

"Samples: before, during, and post use of powers. We need more data."

Moira smiled. "If you can find _willing_ victims, I will be happy to assist you in that regard."

* * *

Remy's first class (college level Electrical Engineering) had gone well. Of course, using a little charm hadn't hurt. He'd joined up with Pyro to head for the library and gotten involved in an intense conversation regarding chess strategy. Pyro's time with Magneto had leant him a heavy amount of knowledge on the subject, but Remy hadn't picked the mutant name Gambit for nothing.

"You're crazy, _homme_," he finally said, waving off Pyro's protests.

And that's when it happened.

"You going to stand in the doorway forever, Swamp Rat?"

He turned toward the snappish voice, startled for a second, and stared into the most intense, sparkling green eyes he'd ever seen. They were angry now, but beautiful. Though Remy had seen many beautiful woman—dated and bedded them even—none of them held a candle to this fierce, lovely creature before him with the soft white hair framing her face, long silky chestnut hair falling behind almost to her waist, and eyes like emerald fire or jade. Her green tank top brought out the color and revealed the smooth, creamy expanse of her arms and neck.

She was stunning. And not only for her outward appearance, but the character that shone through.

Only years of honed thieving and gambling instincts allowed him to respond unmoved by all that but charming. "Apologies, _ma cherie_. I did not realize where I was." He moved gracefully aside for her to pass, taking Pyro less gracefully with him. "My name is Remy LeBeau."

She tilted her head toward him appraisingly and shook his offered hand, lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Rogue."

Her eyes flared into bright focus. All good signs. He measured her. Not quite ready for a flirt.

"And what is your gift?" he asked curiously, seeking to prolong the conversation by some other means.

Pyro interrupted harshly. "She's human. She's _Cured_."

"So are you, _homme_," Remy pointed out drily.

Rogue just looked amused.

"I was forced. She _chose_ to take the Cure." Pyro's feelings of betrayal glimmered in his angry eyes.

Remy already knew how Pyro felt about these sort of things, but right now, he had a great deal more interest in the supremely confidant woman in front of him that eyed Pyro with a sort of pity.

"The Cure won't last forever," she said softly in a thick Mississippi accent.

He loved the sound of her voice when she brought it out so low like that.

"Pyro." A hard edge came into her tone and expression.

Remy liked that too.

She stepped closer to Pyro, stared up into his face. Though the fire manipulator didn't back down or retreat, Remy would just now put money on the _femme_ if it came to blows.

"And when yours comes back, _I'll_ have been waiting." Rogue slipped around the two of them and into the library.

Remy shook his head in sorrowful compassion.

"What?" Pyro snapped.

Remy threw an arm around Pyro's shoulder, grinning as the other flinched. "You, _homme_, have much to learn about women."

* * *

When Bobby entered the library, it took him a few minutes scouting to find who he was looking for. Rogue and Kitty were in the back corner of the library at a round table, heads together, whispering and pointing at the papers in their hands. Every so often, Kitty would suddenly sit up and gesture excitedly with her hands.

Bobby steeled himself and approached. It was so much easier to talk to just one of them, but finding Rogue alone since school started yesterday had been difficult.

He knocked on the table and both girls looked up.

"Hey."

"Hey," Rogue answered, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear.

Kitty retreated to bending over the papers studiously.

He suddenly felt nervous. "Maybe you'd like to go to that play that's we saw? You know the one about the princess." He tried to read Rogue's eyes, but that had been getting harder and harder to do.

Rogue glanced at Kitty, held the look for a significant moment, then turned back to Bobby. "I don't think so."

He sat down then. He knew exactly what she meant in that glance, what she was saying. "We're over?" He was surprised at the amount of panic that knowledge could engender in him. "I'm sorry, Rogue. I never meant to hurt anyone." Bobby had never been known to plead, but Rogue was different. She always had been.

She sighed and looked at him without malice. "We all make mistakes, Bobby."

He felt the glimmerings of hope. She leaned forward and touched his arm—not his skin.

"But find a girl you can touch."

His mouth opened, but then he shut it sharply and looked at Kitty. She was phased. A clear meaning in the gesture.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever." He hid the pain behind simple words and made almost blindly for the library door. Forgiveness perhaps, but with nothing left.

* * *

Rogue stared after Bobby's exit until he'd disappeared. Then she looked at her friend. Shadowcat had never once looked up.


	7. Adaptive Measures

I'm taking a page from Tamarai's book. No crazy spelling errors to produce that lovely southern accent. Use your imagination. I don't own the characters or universe or anything else that is the product of Marvel.

Sorry it took so long, but here it finally is.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 7: Adaptive Measures**

* * *

Katherine Pryde had never considered herself a fighter.

Not when Emma Frost and Professor Xavier both came to recruit her and her parents gave her up without a protest. She didn't beg them to let her stay.

Not when Rogue first came to the school and got stabbed through the heart by Logan's claws. She backed away with the rest of the students, forgetting she could phase.

Not when the senior staff returned from Ellis Island and her friend wore new white hair and snarled at nearly everyone for three days. She took the abuse without a word.

Not when her parents divorced and left her here for keeps. She cried out under the trees.

Not when St. John Allerdyce abandoned the school and _her_, joined Magneto's cause, and nearly killed them all with his fire. She went after Leech. Retrieve, run, phase.

She wasn't a fighter.

Then it all went to hell.

Shadowcat made her way down the hall and into the elevator. She pressed for the bottom floor and went to work pulling up her long hair into a tight, high ponytail. Her watch read 4:45 a.m.

She still had nightmares from what Phoenix had done to them. Dr. Grey, the Professor, Mr. Summers: all of them were dead. She'd watched Bobby nearly kill her one-time lover and something in her had snapped. She fought then. She fought for Jimmy, for John, for herself. Tears rolled down her face as she fought her way off the island and watched the whole thing blow away to hell.

That's when she started to call herself a fighter.

The elevator dinged and slid open. She kept walking in a straight path to her destination, punched in her access key, and entered the Danger Room.

* * *

Remy had woken with nightmares again. Tunnels led to New Orleans and, in his dream, he couldn't save her. Telling himself it was just a dream, that Sarah was fine, did nothing for his emotional state, and finally, he relented and went to work off steam.

Storm had given him access codes to the Danger Room first thing and let him know in concrete specifics that he wasn't allowed to pull his usual stunts around the mansion. When he needed a workout, he was to use the Danger Room.

It was earlier than anyone should be up, so he was more than a little surprised to see someone had come ahead of him.

He was even more surprised to see a holographic Pyro being used as a punching bag for the tiniest _femme_ he'd seen here so far.

* * *

She phased through fire, then swung out into a vicious kick. He sneered at her, taunting when he went down. He came up swinging and she had to apply block after block under his attack. She brought her leg up hard, but he blocked it. She narrowed her eyes and met his flames with phases and kicks, punches and twists. She was starting to win.

"Bringing in enforcements, Sprite?" John's voice teased her painfully.

She landed a blow. He staggered, but rebounded.

"Can't handle me on your own?"

She blinked, hesitated, registering what he was saying. "Pause simulation," she commanded and watched him go instantly still.

Shadowcat looked around wildly and saw a lean, muscled man move like liquid out of the shadows. His eyes were crimson on a sea of black and glowed hypnotically above a tiny smirk. He was dressed in only a black long-sleeved T and gloves on top, which emphasized the athletic physique.

"You startled me," she accused.

"_Désolé._"

He spoke French? Could a man appeal to more romantic sensibilities?

"I was wondering if, perhaps, you could use a partner?" He cocked his head slightly in genuine (hopefully, her more cautious self muttered internally) curiosity.

"Why are you even up?" she asked as she went about cleaning up the newly decimated and charcoaled remains of her activities.

"I could ask the same."

Shadowcat glanced over sharply. "Troubled sleep." She returned a singed shuriken to its place before peeking at him from the corner of her eye.

He merely shrugged and leaned on a wall. "_Préoccuper le sommeil._"

She had taken French last year and noticed the distinction he made. Troubling, not troubled.

"Dreams?" Why was she asking? she wondered. She was even sounding concerned about it.

He gave another languid shrug. "Spar?" He flexed his wrists in an impossibly double-jointed maneuver, then cocked an eyebrow.

"Fine."

She shut down her sim and ran "Logan Three." Dojo mats appeared on the floors and ancient weaponry like staffs and broadswords graced the walls. She took a staff and brought it to stand in front of her, bowing her head as if she was praying. Logan never specified why this particular action was important, but he never allowed her to omit it.

She was surprised to see the handsome Cajun draw out a short metal stick from his clothes (where on his body could that have been hiding?) and with a twist of wrist, it suddenly telescoped into a full-length bo-staff. He twirled it behind his back, then settled it in front of him as she was doing.

Her mouth went dry.

This was a _fighter_.

She narrowed her eyes. So was she.

She attacked.

They moved in tandem. He blocked, gently tapping his staff against her wooden one at intervals, as if warning her to keep her distance. He was testing her. She held back.

"Come now, _cheri_. Try something a little harder."

She wanted to reach out and wipe that smirk off his face. What was it with her? All the handsome guys smirked! Not smiled, not grinned, they smirked.

"The name is Shadowcat," she bit out. "Katherine 'Kitty' Pryde."

The smirk widened into a grin. "A lovely name, _petite_."

Petite? She fell into a disciplined attack that finally got him on his toes, dancing around her as she landed blows on his shoulder, his ribcage, his legs.

He had apparently succeeded in learning what he wanted and suddenly switched tactics to a more aggressive front of his own. He was landing blows, raining them across her. She phased. He swore, but followed with her, keeping the staff in her enough that she couldn't return without phasing the staff.

With a sigh, she resigned herself, flipped over his head, swung around behind, and landed a blow on his back.

They met each other again, feinting, parrying, thrusting. Neither could land on the other, and both were breathing heavily with the exertion.

He twisted his arm in that ultra-flexibility and brought the staff up on her stomach. She dropped with an oomph.

"Perhaps, you prefer fire, _non_?"

Rage boiled up and she tamped it down, remembering Logan's instruction. She immediately channeled it up her arm and leaped like a feral cat from her ground position, twirling around the tip of his staff, and catching hers under his chin. She pushed, she pummeled, she danced with fury.

He was unprepared for the onslaught of her attack.

Never again, her mind played before her. Never again would she give her heart to a man like John. Never again would she watch her mentor die to a violent evil. Never again would she watch Bobby trade blows with his _friend_. "Never again," she whispered, not even realizing the words had slipped from her lips.

His red eyes flared. He blocked. She phased, landing the blow anyway. His smirk was John's smirk. His cigarette smell, John's smell. His too lean body, John's body.

_Never again. Never again. Never again._

She used maneuver after maneuver pressing her advantage, phasing through his blocks and thrusts.

He swore again—in French.

She blinked.

John didn't speak French.

A glowing card sizzled to her feet. She swung away. It exploded and she was seeing white lights of the aftershock.

So he was going to play dirty?

More cards, more blows, more thrust and parry. She phased, he charged. She danced through an explosion and hit him when he least expected it. She fought harder, pressed in, and suddenly, a mighty grip had closed around her arm and the clank of two staffs hitting the floor startled her into stillness.

He was so close, leaning in so she could distinguish so his scent from John's and see his lean, angular face overwhelmingly close to hers.

"That's enough fighting, Kitty."

She blinked. "I _am_ a fighter."

He released her and she had to catch herself from stumbling.

"There's a difference between fighter and killer, _non_?"

It was the wrong thing to say. She stared at him, remembering Jean and John and all the horrors of that day of battle. With a strangled cry, she fled through the walls of the Danger Room and threw herself at the ceiling to phase into the empty room below hers and then into her own.

She collapsed on the bed, crying softly, chanting. "Never again. _Never again._"

* * *

Remy threw open the door to Pyro's room without a knock or warning and dragged the mutant from his bed. He was surprised to have to dodge a twisting blow aimed right at his midsection, and the two were almost immediately tangled in an exchange of blows. Remy, fresh from fighting, twisted and dodged at the right moments, but Pyro, fresh from sleep and still disoriented, could almost keep up with him. Suddenly, Pyro's eyes cleared as he realized who had woken him. A Zippo lighter hung open near Remy's face.

Pyro swore. "Gambit! You could at least warn me." He backed away then stared at the lighter in his hand as if only now realizing what it was.

"You always wake like that?" Remy dropped into the chair, barely disguising his riledness.

Pyro slowly set the lighter down. "Mystique."

"Spill." The word came out like a threat.

"About what?" Pyro seemed relatively unconcerned as he stared at the lighter on his nightstand.

"Let's start with the Rogue."

Pyro finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "What about her?"

Remy narrowed his eyes. "Why's she have it in for you, _homme_?"

"She's Bobby's girlfriend. We didn't exactly part on nice terms." He'd hand it to the _homme_; Pyro gave as good as he got.

"Who's this Bobby?" Remy waved his hand slightly.

Pyro stared at the lighter again. "Used to be my best friend."

"Wait a second. You _lived _here?" Remy focused narrowly on the pyromaniac. This put things in new perspective.

Pyro merely glared. "Got a problem with that?"

He was a good bluffer. Remy could take him any day, but the in-your-face dangerousness of Pyro was that he didn't care. He was a wild card. He'd probably die fighting.

Remy leaned back, reevaluating, altering his conclusions about this heretofore easygoing, if misguided and angry, mutant before him.

"Now, Shadowcat."

Pyro's jaw tightened. He jerked his head harshly to the left, an unqualified no.

"You want to explain to me," Remy said very calmly, "what she was doing trying to kill me any time she let herself think I was you?"

A flame lit in Pyro's eyes and real anger came out as he crossed toward Remy. "You _fought _her? You—"

The following words were blue and modified Remy's perception again.

He rose from the chair. "You, Pyro, have got to get a clue."

Pyro glared at him.

Remy just shook his head. "You really _don't_ have a clue about women, do you, _ami_? If what you're telling me is true, then she loves you and you love her and you let it all go to hell!"

"You know _nothing_ about it!" Pyro shouted back.

Remy stepped too close to him and silence fell with the motion. He felt his powers flaring dangerously, and said with quiet, deadly calm, "I know _everything_ about it."

He backed away. Bella Donna's face, her eyes when he killed Julian, swam before his mind's eye. He shook his head. "Pyro, you are screwed."

* * *

Pyro watched Gambit leave, still breathing heavily. He braced his arms on the wall trying to forget _her_. The more he tried _not_ to think of her, the more she invaded his mind, his dreams. Her scent, her laughter, the way she wrinkled her nose when she thought really hard. The very idea that she could have tried to _kill_ anyone was frightening and painful.

It's why he had left. He tried to save her, all of them, from himself before it all burned into nothingness.

He stared at the lighter by his bed. It accused him.

He had failed.

* * *

Emma groaned again. Really, did Pyro _ever_ sleep? He always had these conversations in the middle of the night! She glanced at her clock. 5:25 a.m. definitely still qualified as night.

She considered dropping Pyro and finding another candidate, but the only other one with enough blood and _guilt_ on his hands to be a candidate was that new recruit: Gambit. He wasn't much of an option though. He was the equivalent of mental white noise. You'd notice him only if you knew to look, and even if you listened hard, telepathy would get you nowhere with him.

She groaned.

Couldn't Pyro just go back to sleep?

* * *

Rogue pretended to be asleep when Kitty came in the way she had. Sometimes, friends needed comfort. Sometimes, they just needed to be alone. But finally, the hiccups and tears had died down and Kitty fell into a light sleep. Rogue counted to ten to be quite sure.

Finally, she rose and carefully dressed. She slipped out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. Ice cream beckoned with siren call from the freezer. She was tired from staying up half the night with research, but sleep had eluded her. There were other comforts.

She was surprised to see a light on in the kitchen already and she paused just outside.

The Cajun was in there scrambling eggs. Something in the line of his body told her he was angry. She leaned an arm on the counter and watched him. She counted the seconds before he noticed her. Suddenly, he stiffened and turned.

"May I help you_, Chere_?" His body stilled and his poker face was incredible.

She shook her head. "No. I just wanted some ice cream."

He raised his eyebrows but turned back to his skillet.

Rogue smiled and slipped around the counter towards her target.

"Sure there's nothing else I could do for you?"

The voice was mildly suggestive and she frowned in annoyance. "I just told you, Swamp Rat, all I want is ice cream." She glared at him. "Never get between a girl and her dessert."

He was smirking at her, then bowed with grace and aplomb. "I would never dream of it."

She took the whole quart and dumped in a spoon. "What? You never seen someone get something out of the freezer before?"

A chuckle rumbled from low in his throat. "_Non_. I just never seen someone get that much of something out of the freezer before." He cocked his head. "For _one_ girl to eat."

She narrowed her eyes. "Whatever." Then, she betook herself out of the room.

That man was really, really annoying.


	8. What Lies Within

Of course, I don't own the universe. But doesn't stop me from coming in to play.

Thank you all for your reviews, especially ChamberlinofMusic, RogueNya, mylove24, and lilmizz3vil, who have faithfully stuck with me. It's for you loyal reviewers that I continue this story (hint, hint) and continuing reviews mean continuing story. Special thanks to the Chamberlin, who lets me bounce off ideas at a phenomenal rate and helps me see what I've done or failed to do. Thanks to RogueNya who helped figure out what next on the Emma/Pyro storyline.

I need a new synopsis for this fic, so if anyone gets inspired, just send it along. If it works, I'll write you the Romy oneshot of your choice. (even if it's a sequel to "The Rogue's Gambit")

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 7: What Lies Within**

* * *

Pyro sat up on his bed. An hour of trying to go back to sleep was unsuccessful and the clock read 6:45. He stared around the sparse, standard issue, X-Institute cell and tried to remember what was so bad about prison. There he knew where he stood. There he had fire.

He turned dull eyes toward the lighter on his nightstand.

_"Then John better come back and get it."_

John.

St. John.

Was that boy still in there? Had he survived the cremation that Pyro set off inside himself, trying to kill everything left that tied him here?

* * *

Emma sat up in bed and narrowed her eyes, concentrating. She had underestimated Katherine Pryde.

Again.

* * *

_"What's your real name?" Magneto had asked. He gave him the right to choose, something no one else had done._

"Pyro." The name slipped off the young mutant's tongue. He reached out and picked up the lighter, fingering the shark, snapping it open.

It was warm and familiar. Apparently, he hadn't burned enough of himself out to not want this, crave it. And _she_ had touched it, given it back to him, like giving him back the soul he'd ransomed in exchange for hers.

_"John better come back and get it."_

Did she want him to come back? Did she?

"John," he whispered.

Could he?

* * *

Professor Charles Xavier smiled to himself as he stared out the window into the falling rain on Muir Island. He was looking fairly well and for the first time in years had the pleasure of standing on his own two feet. He'd never imagined being in his identical twin's body, but couldn't deny the advantages.

Moira McTaggert's heavy brogue interrupted his thoughts. "Glad to see you up, Professor."

He turned with a warmer, broader smile. "Good to have you back."

"Perhaps we can work on more exercises this morning?" She gestured with the suitcase she had yet to put away from having traveled.

"That would be good." He came to join her in walking down the hallway, reaching out gently with his telepathy, brushing through the projected thoughts that built up in the common areas. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

"Kitty." The response was quick and unexpected, but Moira turned her dazzling smile back on him. "She's a regular scientist, that one," she said with a chuckle. "I want to show you a few things."

They stopped just outside the main lab for Moira to get out her key. She slipped it in the lock and opened the door with a welcoming gesture. "Professor."

"Ladies first."

She laughed and he followed her in.

* * *

Rogue set aside the empty ice cream carton and snuggled a little deeper into her nest of pillows on the couch in the media room. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she calmed her breathing in the empty darkness of her mind. All the training with the Professor and with Jean had led to her having a fine handle on her thoughts if nothing else.

Still. Quiet.

She thought of ice. Cold, wet icicles hanging from the edge of a roof. Iced tea. A little blonde boy playing on a swing. The little brother.

She thought of John and laughter and icing up the pool for a skate.

_It was warm in here. Too warm._

She threw off one of the pillows.

_If she could only understand...he never wanted to hurt her._

A soft, thick voice interrupted her activity. "What are you doing, chere?"

Rogue's eyes flew open. Remy was leaning his tall, thin frame against the doorframe, head slightly tilted, with mild curiosity burning in his fiery eyes. He wasn't exactly Rogue's type (what was her type, anyway?) but she had to concede to the X-girls' general consensus: Remy LeBeau was devastatingly handsome. The messy hair falling into his eyes merely added to that bad-boy charm.

"Reaching."

He looked even more curious at her answer. "For what?"

"Not what." She started to close her eyes.

"Who?" Amusement colored his tongue. "When? Where?"

She glared at him.

Remy didn't seem very perturbed by it, as he slipped into the room, threaded his way through the intervening furniture, and dropped bonelessly into Hank's favorite blue chair. He propped his feet up on the ottoman and kept his sidelong gaze on her. The black color had faded almost seemlessly into the red of his irises, and Rogue found herself staring at the blending of color. The man was exuding comfort and ease. She felt like she could trust him to never tell her secrets.

Rogue snapped out of it. "What's your gift?" she demanded.

He cocked an eyebrow and with a tiny flick of finger, a playing card materialized on the edge of it. He spun it dexteriously about the tips of his fingers, seeming barely to move at all. A faint pink glow crept up along the card, then brightened, intensified, brightened some more into a lurid, pulsating pink energy.

Suddenly, the light faded back into his fingers and the card vanished. "If I don't take the charge back," he said, catching her with another sidelong glance, "the card explodes."

"How big?" She couldn't tear her eyes away from where the card had been.

His mouth split into a wide, slow grin. "Depends on how big I want it, chere."

She narrowed her eyes again. Remy seemed a bit of a show-off. "So you're not a telepath," she concluded.

He leaned back, shrugged. "Non. Don't like them." His voice was flat. "Any of them."

She studied him. He looked tired and innocent. She answered his question. "I was reaching for Bobby."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Ex." Rogue frowned. Where had he heard that?

"If he's your ex, why are you reaching for him?" This time, Remy opened his eyes, lifting his head to look at her. The curiosity was back, burning.

"Do you always pry?" she snapped.

"Non. I mostly _spy_." He saw her startle at the statement and grinned again, his eyes flaring into a bright glow. He looked just like a devil. Then, he shrugged. "But sometimes it's either."

"So you have complete control of your gift?" She visualized the dancing card.

"Had a little help with that." Remy leaned back his head again. "Do you have complete control of your gift?"

"Had a little help with that," she taunted back. The mixed feelings of guilt and elation at taking the Cure were something she tried to avoid.

He glanced over. "You know, you never did answer my question."

"Which one?"

"What _is_ your gift?"

He cocked his head at her and looked so earnest and interested, she decided to try something. Uncurling from the couch, Rogue clambered to her feet and made her way over to him. His eyes flared again, brightening fractionally. Her eyes fell to half-lidded and she reached out a finger to brush against the stubble of his jaw. She added one more and held it, closing her eyes to focus better.

This was the second time she'd tried it on him. The first time was when his hand had closed around hers in a handshake.

"What are you doing, chere?" His voice was even softer the second time he asked it. Gentle. Curious.

She had a feeling that was rare.

"Reaching."

Nothing was coming and Rogue stepped it up, visualizing the card in her fingers, twirling, dancing with barely a motion, slowly filling with the lurid pink 'charge.' Imagined it exploding.

Something slipped into her.

Curiosity, confidence, well-guarded attraction, bone-weary tiredness, fear. The feelings were like whispering tendrils on the outskirts of her mind.

"Reach it?" His voice got her to crack her eyes open, and she felt an echoing whisper with the rest of the feelings

"Almost. Like murmurs far away." She pulled away and backed up. She'd just been _touching_ a man she didn't know. She stared at him. "I've got to get to class."

"You teach?" The question was casual. Remy seemed to be studying her, maybe wondering what had suddenly shifted.

"History. Second period." She flashed a grin. "Freshman."

"_Bon voyage._" He saluted her with a pair of fingers, then subsided into the chair. He looked like he was going to sleep.

She stared at him. "Good night," she whispered softly.

He didn't answer as she slipped away out of the room.

* * *

Logan found him in Hank's overstuffed monstrosity of a comfy chair in the media room.

"Gambit!" he barked out.

The mutant lazily opened one red eye.

"Storm says you skipped your physical."

"Don't like doctors." Remy shrugged and closed both eyes again, leaning back harder in the chair. "Don't need a physical."

"Don't make me _get_ physical," Logan growled.

Remy frowned but refused to budge. All the nights of tension and restless, unsatisfying sleep were rolling over him in waves of exhaustion. He simply could not stand right now without giving away just how tired he was.

"Come on." Logan grabbed his arm to get him up.

Remy pulled it away.

"Hank's not like most doctors."

"That's what they all say." Remy's voice was bitter, the voice of experience.

Logan was a lot gentler when he said, "Yeah. Well, I got bad memories too. But if you don't check in, we won't know how to help you when something's really wrong."

With a grumble, the Cajun got to his feet. The delay had strengthened his legs. His playing cards materialized in his hands and he began to shuffle, the steadiness of the familiar motions soothing.

Logan grinned as he led him down the maze of mansion hallways that Remy had memorized in a couple of hours.

"The regular card shark."

"I beat you, homme," Remy quipped, referring to his first night at the mansion, in which he put Pyro neatly in his place, provoked more than a few unsportsmanlike growls from Logan, and proved that he could hold alcohol even better than the Canadian Wolverine.

"Let's see you beat the odds at coming out of that unscathed."

Remy successfully supressed his shudder when he saw the medical bay Logan was indicating. It brought up his worst memories.

"Medicine or science in here?" he asked uneasily, waving his fingers toward the long counter of beakers and equipment that Hank McCoy was maneuvering around.

Beast popped his head up eagerly and exposed overlong canines. "An exam? I believe, Gambit, that I was supposed to evaluate your physical and emotional wellbeing upon your arrival."

He looked like a puppy about to have his lunch.

Remy thought he was going to be sick.

* * *

Emma Frost had little trouble sorting through the upper portions of her charge's head. But she'd been banging her diamond skull against this core for a while.

Minds tended to create their own subconscious images of things, so finding a little box of fire in his subconscious emitting strong signals wasn't so surprising. What was surprising was the fact that she couldn't breach it.

The walls were made of some kind of shaped, solid, and white-hot fire with streaks of red rolling off of it from time to time. This package practically throbbed with possibilities. His feelings about Kitty, himself, his fire all seemed to come back to this one spot. She worried away at the box, but came away emptyhanded.

She couldn't get into it. She couldn't freeze it. She couldn't manipulate it.

Emma narrowed her mental eyes.

She could work with his Kitty-love on the outside, but it would be ineffective if she couldn't deny the source. This, because of the fire in it, was integrated into his soul. It would take more than your average telepath to wall it away from him.

Pyro was no telepath. It made her wonder more strongly how did it come to be?


	9. Shadows of the Past

Of course, I don't own the universe. But doesn't stop me from coming in to play.

Thank you to the Chamberlin of Music for the new summary. "Fritz" is coming along, but it will be five to seven chapters instead of one.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 9: Shadows of the Past**

* * *

Logan slammed shut the cupboard door, a six-pack in hand, and found Kitty standing in the counter three or four inches from his face.

He let loose an expletive. "Kitty! Do _not_ do that." He waved a menacing claw.

She smiled brightly. "Hello to you too, Logan."

He groaned and eyed her warily.

"Got a favor to ask." She stepped forward, brushing through him, and became solid so she could lean against the counter instead of in it. "Could you help me out?"

"What?" Still wary. It had taken a while, but Logan had eventually learned that Kitty was a dangerous person to be around. She was so sweet, he almost always found himself doing something he didn't want to.

She twisted her fingers together. "Well, you see. Dr. McTaggert said I could get some samples of people if they were willing."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Most people are willing if _you_ ask them."

"Samples for what?" He shook his head. "Kitty, what are you up to?"

"Me and Rogue—"

"She's in on this?" Why was he surprised? He shouldn't be with the way the two of them had been sneaking around all the time. "How come I don't like the sound of this?" He crossed his arms and gave her his meanest look.

"Aw, come on. We need it for our research." Kitty looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "We've got a theory for controlling her powers, and now's the only time it's safe to work on it. Before they're dangerous again."

He couldn't dispute the point, though he certainly wanted to. "_You_ want _me_ to round you up some victims?"

Kitty nodded. "They just have to sit still for a little swipe or two with cotton swabs and some blood drawn two or three times. That's it."

That was it? When almost every single student abhorred every single second spent in the medical bay, that was it?

"Kitty..." he began, trying to find the words to let her down easy.

"Please." Her eyes widened even more and he hated himself for it, but couldn't say no.

"Fine."

She squealed and grabbed him in a big hug.

"Hey! Kit-cat..." He growled warningingly.

She shoved him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh you big teddy bear with claws on!"

He froze, blinked.

She giggled. "Bye." With a light wave, she scooted out of the kitchen.

Teddy bear? He glanced in the direction of the media room to make sure the guys hadn't heard. He listened. They were still arguing about the merits of various kinds of explosives.

On second thought...

Logan reached for another six-pack. He was going to need it.

* * *

Remy raised his eyebrows at the Canadian when he slammed two six-packs onto the table and slid one across the surface toward them.

"That one's yours. This one's mine." Logan settled into his seat.

Remy neatly disengaged three of the cans. "Merci beaucoup, mon ami."

Pyro grabbed the white lining that held the other three. "Thanks for the leftovers, guys," he said drily.

Logan grunted, already chugging his first.

Remy just smirked. "What shall it be, mes amis?" he asked, flexing the cards in his fingers. He began to shuffle. "Twenty, forty?"

"Sounds good." Pyro leaned back and sipped on his beer.

Logan nodded slowly.

The game began.

Conversation flowed freely among the three bad boys of the mansion, especially after Remy brought another pair of six-packs. Dr. Hank McCoy would have had a few choice words with him if he knew.

"Didn't Hank tell you to stay away from the beer?" Logan asked at one point, eyeing him suspiciously.

"High metabolism," Remy replied, brushing it off. "The bête thinks it's important, but it ain't."

"You had an exam with McCoy?" Pyro narrowed his eyes over his cards. "And you're still walking?"

"I'm amazed the Cajun walked in here." Logan threw some chips on the pile and raised. "Apparently, he's got three bruised ribs, a concussion, and some mild internal bleeding, which Hank was able to stop."

Pyro stared openly.

Remy shrugged. He glanced over his cards and called the bets.

The first round went to Logan. Two six-packs of beer had vanished. Pyro borrowed a cigarette from Remy, and the three lit up.

"Storm finds out, we're dead," Logan said as he dealt the next round.

Remy chuckled.

Pyro shrugged. "Better than the Professor. He always knew when I had one, even if I wasn't in the mansion."

Remy gave a questioning glance.

"Mind reader," Logan supplied.

The conversation turned to telepaths. And that's where it got nasty, a combination of only half-shared memories and half-shared opinions.

_Pyro had never liked the fact that Professor Xavier could read his mind. He hated the invasion of privacy, hated the knowing looks that the Professor gave when he acted out._

_He didn't know anything! He knew nothing at all about him._

_He could comfort himself with the fire, knowing the Professor didn't know the flames._

_Jean Grey was different. The redheaded teacher who he just knew hid the dangerous, rebellious nature of fire beneath her benign control. She protected others from herself, the same way he did. They just had different methods._

_He'd seen the gleam of fire in her eyes in unguarded moments. He'd glimpsed the flames dancing about her pupils when none were near to reflect._

_He liked her. He thought maybe one day he could be like her, walk among the other kind without hurting them._

_Or so he thought..._

"I'm not saying I agree with it." Logan sighed. "Just that I understand."

Pyro snarled back. "Understand? The guy that opens his home to all mutants, we're all one big happy family, was _scared!_ He had no right. He violated her!"

Remy's eyes went back and forth, then narrowed. "Some powers have to be locked away, homme."

"Yeah, right." Pyro shook his head in disgust.

"Don't you judge him, Pyro." Remy waved a finger at the convict. "Not 'til you walked that road yourself."

**Before Remy saw the man approaching, he felt him. An evil shadow caressed his telepathic shields as he crouched on the ground, holding his head and praying to all of the saints that the explosions had ended.**

**He shuddered and cautiously looked up.**

**"Essex," he whispered.**

_Everything he had ever hoped looking at the telekinetic telepath was blown away when he saw her come into camp with Magneto. He knew with one look that they were the same._

_They would always be fire._

**He fought hard and often to break Remy. Remy stubbornly refused to be broken. He tried to reach him. Remy would not be reached. He tried to sneak past those telepathic defenses. A Thief to the end, Remy could not be sneaked around.**

**The taint, the barrage, the corruption buzzing, hissing at the edges of his mind was constant.**

**Remy LeBeau would not be touched.**

_"Save me," he'd asked her, this woman so unlike what he'd always known her to be._

_The Professor had kept her locked inside herself. She had been unable to do it herself. If she couldn't..._

_"Are you sure this is what you want?" A tiny bit of the old Jean Grey peeked out of her eyes amidst the flames._

_St. John Allerdyce dropped down by the campfire and met that person in those eyes. "Yes."_

"You think he meant for all this to happen?" Logan demanded.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Pyro muttered darkly.

Remy glanced back and forth between the two before dropping his hand on the table. "I believe it's my win. Play again?"

_She'd given herself to the flames and then given herself up all together._

**No one had ever asked him why he called himself the Gambit.**

* * *

A/N: Please, please, please review! I appreciate the loyal wonderful readers, but this fic definitely seems to be my least popular among the chaptered ones. Please tell me what you think on this chapter, even if you don't regularly.


	10. Learned Behavior

I heard lots of mixed reviews regarding last chapters flashbacks, so here goes the author's note. _Italics were Pyro's flashbacks of the Professor and Jean Grey, and _why_ and _what_ he feels about telepaths. _**The** **bolded parts were Remy's flashbacks of Nathaniel Essex/Sinister and _why_ he feels what _he_ feels about telepaths.** He's not that empathetic to Pyro's views. Pyro's flashbacks also contain a major hint to a previously mentioned story point. Kudos to whoever figures out what and tells me.

Further hint for the future, especially to Laceylou76: the Phoenix seems to take exception to the concept of _staying _dead.

Also, the reason no flashbacks for Logan is because he doesn't have the same issues with telepaths. He sort of comments more, but remembers less. And please pay attention to that last line in the chapter. It's going to be important later. I have an obsession with names that plays out in this particular fic.

Bear with me, y'all. I can't move through this particular tale too quickly. Or as you can see, it gets confusing.

* * *

Thank you all for restoring my confidence in this particular story. I'll keep it up and moving along (Promise to AshmandaLC). And hopefully, I'll get some real Romy _action_ on the page soon. Kyro came out first because of the whole part of them having history.

Thanks for all the comments on the guys, RogueNya, mylove24, and Laceylou76. I like those three and glad to know I'm handling them okay. Thanks ChamberlinofMusic for the help with the Kitty/Logan interaction and RogueNya, Green Peridot, and RogueOnFire for noticing. And I totally agree with you, 'Nya. Those girls are the only ones who would survive saying that.

Glad you're enjoying the Kyro, AshmandaLC. I fell in love with this pairing before I found out about Remy and started my research into comicverse. A little more Kyro and Romy this chapter. Not quite as much as I'd like, but as usual, characters dictate the pace, not me.

Coup fatal, this is _very_ different from everything else that I've written on Romy. Mostly because I'm minimizing humor and not interested in big, grand adventure yet. But this is definitely my main writing style, just not always the same tone.

Green Peridot, I don't know how I do it. I think I just don't know any better.

Ah, questions. Sorry, mylove24. The only thing I can tell you about our scientific X-girls is that they're doing _research_. There's going to be more of the mutation stuff coming up, and yep, ChamberlinofMusic, Logan's on board. This is going to be dangerously fun! :smiles mysteriously: By the end, I'd like Rogue to have gained partial if not total control.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 10: Learned Behavior**

* * *

It was the most amazing fight that Rogue had ever seen.

She'd risen early, hoping to catch the Danger Room before anyone else, since most people would discourage her from going in there after she'd been Cured. She stopped cold in the control room. Someone had gotten there before her. And he was _good_.

It was Remy LeBeau, weaving in and out of a dozen enemy fighters. Cards flew. Pink light flashed, whined, and glowed before exploding in white sparks and chaos. He leaped, he twirled, he twisted in an acrobatic dance, kicking, punching, and grappling. He moved on from one target to another with all the ease of switching channels on a television.

Another round of fighters poured out of a virtual building, fanning out to surround him. A small, silver staff materialized in Remy's hand. He flicked it out into a full length staff and fell into a fierce, beautiful rhythm. Cards still flew, and she wondered how he kept it all up. He seemed to react even before the action against him.

It was amazing.

It had been a long time since she had stopped to look at something only for the sake of enjoyment, but this held her rooted to the spot. He had all the finesse of a master. It was beautiful to watch.

Rogue found herself leaning in for a better view. His impossible flexibility got her thinking in other directions and she flushed then drew away.

What was she doing? She was watching him fight. She was watching a near stranger fighting, relieving some personal tension no doubt. That brought worse thoughts.

She fumbled for the door handle and hurried out. She needed to get away and stop this before it got out of hand.

She needed to prepare for her class.

Yeah. Sure.

* * *

Shadowcat waited for him in the library, her X-Man alter ego firmly in place to deal with him. She had all the necessary textbooks waiting, a notebook and pencil for his notes (not like he'd plan for _that_), and a list of all his assignments. This was entirely too reminiscent of when they were just high school kids together, but Storm had been adamant that _she_ tutor him.

Pyro.

Almost on cue, the lanky pyrokinetic entered the library and looked around, his dark eyes seeking her out. She saw the instant he noticed her. His eyes did that same slight flare they always had when he saw her. Almost like a bare second of being surprised. He came over, sat down, propped his feet up on the table.

She elbowed him hard and knocked them back off, then cut him over verbally before he had a chance to swear.

"Three rules you _will_ abide by, or I swear, I will make sure you fail every class I help you in." She glared at him.

He looked startled, but then silently appraised her. He raised one brow.

"Number One," she began. "You will be _on_ time _every_ time. Understand?"

He smirked. "Of course."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Number Two. You will complete every single assignment we work on." She expected a little bit of protest on that one.

He surprised her, leaning back, looking thoughtful, then nodding.

"Okay." That had startled her good and she floundered a little. Kitty reminded of John. This was Pyro, she told herself, reaching again for the hardened strength she would need against him. "Number Three."

"If I agree to all three," Pyro cut her over, "then you agree to a rule of mine."

Kitty narrowed her eyes at him again. "I have no reason to agree to that."

"Yes." He leaned in close to her, fire snapping in his hazel eyes. "You do."

She could feel his breath on her face, the unnatural heat that accompanied him radiating into her skin.

"No," she said tightly. "I don't."

He leaned back again, eyeing her warily.

"Number _Three_." She drew out the word, daring him to interrupt her again. "No personal. This is tutoring, simple education. No personal at all."

He studied her for a long, long moment. The seconds dragged. She waited for him to respond.

"Pyro..."

"My rule," he said, clipping the words. "No code names."

She stared at him openly. That directly violated the whole nonpersonal thing. That made them Kitty and John again. That brought back wounds and memories that didn't need to be reopened.

"No," she said.

"Then I'll do personal whenever I feel like," he replied. His zippo lighter had materialized in his hands and he flicked it open. He gazed at the flame for a second or so, then flicked it shut.

Snap. Click. Snap. Click.

The rhythm of her teenage years had been measured in the flicking of that lighter. She put her hand on the lighter, ignoring the warmth of his fingers and the way it made her feel.

He looked up from the lighter. He looked at _her_.

"Fine," she said. "No code names."

He shrugged as if it wasn't important. "No personal."

Yeah. Sure.

* * *

Storm caught up with Rogue in the hallway on her way to History class.

"Marie! Wait up."

Rogue stopped and waited, wishing people would get it through their heads that she was going by Rogue again. "Yes," she said politely, tucking back some wayward strands of white.

Storm's hair, all snow white, fell smoothly against her dark cheeks as she came to a stop in front of Rogue. "I wanted to talk to you about a fellow teacher."

That was a slight surprise. Rogue furrowed her brow. "Yes?"

"I've noticed," Storm began, all regal dignity, "that you've been studying mutations by working with various people among your peers."

Her word choice led Rogue to believe she did _not_ know to just what lengths Rogue had gone in her research, including having her best friend steal medical files with permission. "Yes." Boy, she was giving that word a workout.

Storm linked arms with her and walked alongside her down the hallway. "Have you met Remy LeBeau yet?"

Rogue nodded.

"Good. He's the one." Storm smiled mysteriously. "He's had a long haul, but he has excellent control of his mutation. Since the Cure _is_ failing, perhaps you two could work together with yours."

Rogue caught her breath. "Um..." After her brief encounters with him, she wasn't really sure she liked the idea.

Storm took it as mere hesitation. "His was activated by touch too."

That stopped her. Rogue pasted on a smile. "Okay." It was worth it, right? To work with an utter stranger who just happened to be handsome and an irritating Cajun. If it brought her control, she could learn to do just about anything.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little short. My writing time has been cut down a bit by work. Next one will be longer.


	11. On Touch and Touchability

Longer chapter, as promised. But finally! I am truly happy. We have reached Romy. More to come.

* * *

Thanks to hannah banana, Bellaria, PlonkerOnDaLoose, and all the people who told me last chapter, for loving this fic. And guess what, hannah banana. I've only read a couple of online comic books, well after I updated this last. Thanks for the comments on all my fics I've got going. I love reviewers like you, ChamberlinofMusic, (many others), and PlonkerOnDaLoose. Thanks, girl, for the sweet comments on tension and the Kyro relationship! I was grinning wide enough to split my face when I read your review. Thanks to all y'all that love the Kyro, one of my favorite couples, including PlonkerOnDaLoose, AshmandaLC, RogueNya, Laceylou76, and ChamberlinofMusic. And no worries, RogueOnFire. Considering Pyro's history with Kitty, it's a safe bet she needs to put a lock on her heart if she wants to keep it. She _knows_ she's wasn't (in her mind) important enough to keep him. But she also knows at one time he cared for her and that she _still_ cares for him. Talk about heartbreaking potential.

Love your comments, AshmandaLC, RogueOnFire, and RogueNya! I'm with you. I would so be watching him in the Danger Room and I think you'll like the way this next chapter turned out. As always, clue me in if I need to tweak. Don't worry, Green Peridot and Laceylou76. Actual training sessions coming soon. And if you can't figure it out from the dialogue below, our Ragin' Cajun just _loves_ the idea of helping this girl with touch.

No promises on the Jean thing, Laceylou76, but I'll certainly keep it in mind. Hmmm...

Thanks to Reya Wild for stopping in! I have a lot of fun with Kitty and Rogue. As for Emma...Yes. She has an agenda. :rubs hands together in authorly glee:

ChamberlinofMusic: "I enjoyed the way Rogue seems to be enthranced by Remy. She obviously is attracted to him but as always the Rogue likes her barriers with people, especially those she doesn't know. I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Storm is suggesting the pair work together. I wonder if she knows just how good the two will be for each other." --- Hit the target as usual. Those barriers make her feel nice and safe and comfortable, and Remy loves to just blow that out of the water for her.

"I cannot wait to read how Rogue is going to approach Remy about working with her." --- Thought you'd like the scene below. It was WAY too much fun to resist!

"Thank you for this update! I always enjoy your work in this story arch!" --- Thank you, thank you!

Thanks to coup fatal as always for both loving and ordering more. I love, love, love how you force me to keep writing!

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 11: On Touch and Touchability**

* * *

Rogue returned to the control room to wait for Remy to finish fighting. She watched as he completely demolished a fighting force of a couple of dozen, then stood still for a moment before stripping off his shirt to reveal toned, hardened muscles beneath.

She backed away from the window. What was it with guys and their _lack_ of modesty? Rogue slowly calmed her breathing. She glanced toward the door.

Remy stood there, watching her with intense interest in his dark red eyes. "Enjoying the view, chere?"

Her gaze flitted over his bare chest, but she dragged it back to his face.

He tilted his head and appraised her. He lifted his gaze to the white streak at the crown of her head and dropped it slowly to meet her eyes, the crimson iris flaring into brilliance, then slowly moved down, lingering across her lips, her neck, her breasts, her hips, down the length of her legs, and back up to her eyes again.

She had never felt so exposed in her life. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

He had the nerve to flash her a grin.

"I was looking for you," she managed to say calmly.

He raised one eyebrow and his eyes glowed with an unearthly light. "Were you now?"

She ignored him and instead, indulged her curiosity for a moment. "Do they always glow like that?"

She watched as the red dimmed fractionally, blending about the edges with the black. "Depends on what you mean by glow," he said softly. They brightened again. "But certain things _do_ seem to burn around you, cheri."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Storm said your power is touch-based."

"What can I say? I'm talented with my hands."

She was sure her cheeks by now were as red as his eyes, but she managed to bite off her retort and try again to initiate a normal conversation.

"I've been working on my powers and I was wondering if you could help me," she said.

He raised both eyebrows. "Thought you were Cured."

"Yeah, well, the Cure is failing." She dropped her hands to her hips. "Will you help me or not?"

Remy chuckled lightly. "Oui, ma cheri. How may I be of assistance?"

"You can start by knocking off the flirting," she answered drily.

"Mais that be the best part." He drew suddenly closer, too close. She could feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

Rogue lifted her chin and turned slightly away. "You can follow that up by showering and meeting me in the library over lunch period. You don't have any classes then, do you?"

Another warm chuckle. "Non."

She glared at him. "Then I'll fill you in then. Comprenez?"

The red in his eyes flared brilliantly, nearly drowning out the black and the smile he gave her was anything but innocent.

"Je comprends."

"Good." She blew out of the control room, away from Remy, cursing the very ground Storm walked on.

* * *

"Unbearable!" Rogue flung her sweater on her bed.

"Arrogant!" Shadowcat dropped her tutoring books on the desk.

"Aggravating!" Rogue dropped into her chair.

"Intolerable!" Shadowcat crossed her arms and faced her roommate.

Rogue sighed after a long moment. "He wasn't this bad the first time I met him."

"They never are," Shadowcat muttered darkly.

"Was he a jerk today?" Rogue asked quietly.

The voice of bitterness replied. "When hasn't he been? Besides the first time he really noticed me."

"I can think of a handful of times after that," Rogue answered drily.

Shadowcat sent her an injured look. Rogue changed the subject.

"Storm wants me to work with Remy on my mutation."

Shadowcat looked well and truly surprised. "Really? I thought it was Bobby."

Rogue laughed and leaned her head back. Her expression settled into something strange and unreadable flickering in her eyes. "No," she said softly. "Not Bobby."

"What'd he do?" Shadowcat pressed.

"Flirted like there's no tomorrow. Eyed me up like a pervert. Gave me so many pickup lines I thought I'd be sick." Rogue shrugged, then cocked an eyebrow at her friend. "Pick one."

Shadowcat laughed. "You sound just like Logan."

"Well, I do have a Logan in there. Somewhere."

Both girls laughed before settling in for the grading papers grind. The classes they taught didn't start for another hour, and this was a good time for girl stuff. After classes was reserved for their research.

"Got any ice cream?" Rogue asked, breaking out the red pens.

Shadowcat scooted through the desk and opened up their mini freezer on the other side. "Nope."

"Bummer. Pass a pop."

Shadowcat lobbed her a soda from their stash and took one herself before burying her nose in a flurry of papers. She humphed. Rogue looked up.

"Note." Shadowcat said aloud, flourishing her red pen. "Rahne believes that a canine is any feral mutant, especially female."

Rogue snickered.

"Ursine is male."

More laughs. More soda. More grades. They didn't break up the party until it was time to go teach their respective classes. Shadowcat shook her head sorrowfully at Rahne's paper, then packed it up and left the room.

* * *

Logan cornered Bobby in a hallway. "So kid. I got something I want you to do."

"Uh...okay." Bobby furrowed his brows but listened.

"The girls are doing some research and need a few people to come down to the med bay, get blood drawn, things like that."

As long as Bobby was politely obedient, Logan played nice. As soon as he started shaking his head, Logan had him against the wall, a set of claws _too_ close to his face.

"I'm going to tell you once and you better be glad I think Rogue can take care of herself."

Bobby swallowed hard.

"You screwed her over because of her mutation and the least you can do is help her figure out how to control it." He narrowed his eyes at the boy. "I _will_ see you in the medbay after classes are out and you _will_ do whatever they ask you to. Got it?"

"Yeah," Bobby ground out.

"Good." Logan dropped him, sheathed his claws, and stomped off down the hallway. Time to find another victim.

One he liked better.

* * *

Remy wrapped up his class just before noon and headed to the library. He had thoroughly enjoyed his conversation with Rogue earlier and looked forward to continuing it. And he wondered yet again what _was_ the girl's mutation.

He felt slightly disappointed when he saw that Rogue had her friend with her. Kitty, wasn't it? He came forward and slid smoothly into a seat at their table. "Bonjour, chéris."

Kitty looked up and giggled a little. Rogue crossed her arms again. She was the only girl he'd ever met that could make that actually cover something.

"Glad to see you made it, swamp rat," she tossed out, a challenge glinting in her eye.

He shrugged. "Glad to see me? You warm my heart, river rat," he flung back with all the smoothness of delivering a compliment.

She narrowed her eyes.

Kitty raised her eyebrows. "Nice to see you two work together so well."

Remy chuckled at that, but fell to studying Rogue again. She tucked back a strand of that perfectly white hair, so different from the brown, then flipped open her folder.

"We're going over some details. Just holler if we lose you somewhere."

"How about starting with an overview?" he asked.

She gave him a look. He wondered what bothered her so much about her mutation.

"If I'm going to help you with it, I do need to know what it is, chere."

Kitty glanced at Rogue, who merely frowned.

"My touch puts people in comas and can even kill," she stated bluntly.

Remy felt more than a little surprised. Her _touch_?

"I get memories, thoughts, feelings, personality quirks, and a new psyche in my head that often enough tries to take over my body." Rogue looked down at her folder. Her fingers tightened at the edges. "I can still feel whispers of everyone I touched before I was Cured. Still get nightmares."

For the first time in Remy's life, he was almost completely at a loss. Her touch. Touching people. The one thing he'd always done in spades was the one thing she soon wouldn't be able to.

Unless...

"That's why you're working on controlling it."

He focused his gaze on her, on those sparkling green eyes that looked up sharply.

"That's why I'm working on it _now_," she corrected. "Right now, while my powers weakened," her eyes flitted to the spot she had touched him on his face "I can't kill you."

Remy studied Rogue, then glanced over at Kitty who was studying him just as intently. He leaned back and waved his hand.

"Continuez."


	12. Fury

**Sirius-Black-is-not-dead** (confusing not good. which parts need work? and thanks for the approval!), **hannah banana** (you're the sweetest. I work hard against OOC, 'cause I hate them too!), **Green Peridot** (my good friend, I love your reviews. training sessions coming chapter after this. right now, he's going to be immersed in what they've been up to and next chapter I need to do the med bay and Logan grabbing his victims and all that), **AshmandaLC** (about three times. she won't last much past her first session or two with him though. I don't know how she could. LOL more kyro this chappie.), **Bellaria** (I was worried about how to write that part, so I'm glad it turned out okay. I mean, really, how do you tell a hot guy that your mutation is to kill anyone dumb enough to get close to you? :shakes head sadly:),

**RogueNya** (more research subjects to come! LOL and Remy's still trying to take it all in. he's kind of been dumped into the middle of this, but at the same time, she _can_ touch at the moment, so it hasn't totally sunk in how bad that whole thing is), **ChamberlinofMusic** (you're back! I love you! and I fully intend to reply to all those whispers reviews...soon. onto fight and shadow! I love this pair's chemistry. they're such passionate people that they really can't help it, as much as they truly try. the Rogue/Kitty scene was the funnest to write, and the Logan thing was inevitable. Bobby had to be corralled back into the group anyway though since he is one of the original four that were so close. and he was isolating himself all too easily. those claws ought to provide some motivation. :snickers shamelessly: again, I'm glad the scene with Rogue's explanation went over so well. it was a little tough. as for all those beginnings, I've got one beginning left and then we can dive into plot, plot, plot. :rubs hands together: enjoy!),

**ayapapayam** (it does mean continue and I hope you like the update. and I'm really glad the chapter endings work. more to come!), **Kerrilea** (thank you! relationships and mutations are truly my cup of tea in this fic. everything's so slow because I have to build it all. I've got five main people and all their relationships with every single other one just about. :shakes head at self: typical me. I overdo. but it's so crazy fun!), **starlight2twilight** (first meeting? this is third I believe. and thanks for the commentary. loved writing the girls. glad to help with the phone LOL), **coup fatal** (get used to it. I love leaving you all hanging. how else do I know you'll come back? LOL that's neat about the coke thing. I'll try to remember that.), **mylove24** (thankies! I had fun with the lot of them. and power control will occur. I'm just going to take my own sweet time to get there. :grins:), **Temari's Angle** (there was previous interaction but this was certainly the most intense. more intense coming. and more. and more. :grins:)

Thank you to all and to all a good read!

* * *

Shameless promotion for another fic: I've heard various lovely compliments on the Kyro. For anyone that wants to bring double warm fuzzies to my heart (yes, Green Peridot, I know I'm spoiled), I've only got 5 reviews on three chapters of my Kyro fourshot, _He is Fire, He is Pain_. I'd love to get a little more feedback on the piece before I finish writing the finale.

* * *

**Fight and Shadow**

**Chapter 12: Fury**

* * *

Remy got lost somewhere around the "Low level kinetic manipulative mutations, and possibly kinestheticly triggered ones, are frequently found in direct proportion to some sort of low level cognitive sensory or shielding capabilities."

He stared at Kitty with a blank face. Rogue glanced up and giggled.

"Still with us, Sugar?" Rogue tossed her head slightly, sending her hair rippling backward.

"In English, Chaton," Remy said lightly.

Kitty looked annoyed. "That _was_ English."

Rogue sighed and rose to the occasion. "What she means is that a mutation allowing someone to control molecules or one like mine that involves touch and that's activated genetically rather than mentally seems to go hand in hand with a strong mental mutation that is also activated genetically."

"I see." He didn't, not really, but it was certainly clearer than Kitty's explanation. "And why is this important?"

"Because her mutation is kinesthetic!" Kitty huffed in exasperation. "All right. What do you know about controlling powers?" She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Start talking."

Rogue cocked her head in interest.

Remy wanted to roll his eyes. "Kinda depends on the mutation, Chaton."

"Yours."

Blatant curiosity kindled in Rogue's eyes. If it weren't for that, he would protest this whole turn of events, but his fiery Southern belle had shown interest in him only rarely.

So he flipped out a deck of cards and started shuffling it in the thoughtless way that helped him concentrate—or go into details he'd rather not.

"My mutation mostly works on contact," he began. "Touch something, I can let the charge go into the object and it'll explode. The longer I hold it once I start charging, the more charge it gets, the bigger the explosion."

"Charge." Kitty arched an eyebrow. "Explain."

He wanted to grind his teeth but instead focused on Rogue listening with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"It's like molecules doing a dance. Biokinetic energy." He slipped the cards away again. "My body generates it. My touch transfers it. I can draw the charge back if I concentrate."

"How?" Rogue asked, her soft drawl dragging out the word.

Remy and Kitty both looked at her. One simple word and the reality of just what she was dealing with hit him for the first time. She had no idea how her power worked. It was simply...on.

He frowned and shrugged. "I have to will it to stay in when there's a lot of charge. It _wants_ out."

Both of Kitty's eyebrows shot up.

"To reabsorb it is kinda the same. I coax it back."

"So it's mental." Rogue breathed out a heavy sigh. Deflated.

He didn't like where this was going. "Was a time when it wasn't." The words slipped out without his willing them and he winced as two pairs of eyes turned on him.

"Had a little help with that?" Rogue asked, small smile, untrusting eyes.

His fingers twitched as he felt the first cravings for a cigarette. "Oui," he replied drily, then fell silent.

The silence stretched until Kitty glanced uncomfortably at her papers and chewed on her lower lip. "Well..." she began. "What level is your power?" She turned assessing again, but decidedly less hostile. "We use the Greek letters system."

"Which is?" Remy asked.

"Gamma is purely physical," Rogue said. "Beta is more powerful, but to put it simply, mostly parlor tricks."

"The exact details are more complex than that," Kitty huffed.

Rogue ignored her. "Alpha is the really strong gifts, like Storm or Pyro or Kitty."

"And Omega," Kitty finished, brandishing her pencil, "is so strong that the mutant can actually exist as a being of energy or thought. They're basically unkillable unless you catch them right."

Remy studied the girls silently as they awaited his answer. He had no intention of telling them the entire truth about his struggles and the "help" he'd received. So he simply shrugged, looked straight into Rogue's emerald eyes, and said, "Alpha."

* * *

THREE DAYS EARLIER...

Professor Xavier turned back from the papers to Moira. "How is it that Kitty is succeeding where we have failed?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. Kitty was not a degreed scientist.

Moira shrugged her shoulders. "We did not fail, Professor. We merely took a different path." She straightened the papers as she spoke. "Kitty comes from a computer type background. Where we looked for how the mutations _expressed_, she searches for how they _operate_. Where we treat control as so much physical therapy, she seeks the underlying genetic and physical functions in order to better know how to manipulate the power."

The Professor frowned thoughtfully.

Suddenly, his eyes became vacant and preoccupied, and Moira looked up sharply. He was active on the astral plane.

_She stretched out her wings, seeking for herself, her body, the world over. She herself had commanded it destroyed, but still she sought._

"Moira," Xavier said slowly. "I do not believe I will be joining you at the Institute yet."

She looked at him in dismay. "Why not, Professor? You are physically ready."

_A sharp, primal cry rang out in the Phoenix cries of rebirth. The flames gathered from the wings of heaven. Thought, energy, force, _power...

The Professor turned and met Moira's gaze. "I have something to do."

_Pieces of elements came together, flying about and drawing inward in the howling hurricane across the wasteland. She drew them tighter, stronger, recreating the form she would need while her mental force stood in the midst of the whirlwind._

"I'm not sure..." He touched his head as if in pain. "I'm concerned."

_Fury..._

* * *

PRESENT

"Did you miss me, Kitten?"

Shadowcat yelled at the warm breathy whisper in her ear and whirled on the kitchen intruder. She had been getting a midafternoon snack, but now was opting for an impromptu self defense class.

She glared at Pyro with uncontrolled fury. "You lost the right to call me that."

"Oh really?" Pyro raised his eyebrows at her, then smirked as he leaned his long, lanky body against the edge of the counter. "If I heard correctly, someone ordered me to come back." His eyes dared her to contradict him.

Her eyes fell to the flicking Zippo lighter in his right hand as it clicked open and shut in an easy rhythm.

"Always try to please a lady," he quipped.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Since when?" she scoffed.

Annoyance flashed in his dark eyes and the flicking hesitated for just an instant before settling back into his rhythm. "Shows how well you know me."

"Know you—" She cut herself off as anger boiled up in her that he would dare to bring up _that. _Shadowcat swung at him with a hard right hook.

Instantly, he caught her wrist and twisted it, bringing her down. He had gotten better, but so had she. She caught his leg with her foot and brought him with her. He rolled and threw her over him by her wrists as she cried out in pain and then pinned her beneath his hard body. Heat coiled within her belly. She used her advantage and phased through him before backtracking to hit him hard. He flew away from her with surprising speed, then stared her down in a defensive position.

He had gotten better. He had changed.

She suddenly stood, completely solid, and strode up to him as he cautiously got to his feet. She clenched her fists and stared directly up into those dark, burning eyes, mere centimeters away.

"I know you," she said bluntly. "I still remember."

She half closed her eyes and watched as his fingers flicked towards her for just a moment. He caught himself and pulled away. She whispered and his eyes darkened further.

_"When the fires of love ignited and burned,  
When I realized all I'd ever learned  
Could not compare to the wings in me  
When your hand touched mine and set me free..._

_"Then I chose my path anew—  
I'd do it all again for you.  
I want to run from this spell you weave,  
But I've forgotten how to leave."_

He backed away. His eyes were half shut pools of pain.

She drove in the knife and twisted it. "Guess you remembered."

And she walked away.

* * *

A/N regarding mutations: I have so much I've been theorizing that I couldn't possibly include the half of what I want to in mere conversations, but I'm going to go ahead and let you all read some of Rogue's notes next chapter: "Illusions of Control." I know less Romy this chapter, but very, very soon. Already have it all planned out and partly written.


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